


Liability

by bobthebeekeeper



Category: Iron Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, Kidnapping, Team Dynamics, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-03
Updated: 2016-01-03
Packaged: 2018-05-11 10:28:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 45,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5623864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bobthebeekeeper/pseuds/bobthebeekeeper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony Stark is kidnapped. He captors want information from him - information that he does, for once, genuinely, really, not possess. Will they believe him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all! I love reading all of the stories on here so wanted to post my own! It was previously posted on ff.net but I want to move away from that site and just stick with this one from now on!
> 
> This is my first completed Marvel fic but I have many more ideas of stories that I would like to write if I get the time!
> 
> Please leave a comment - I appreciate constructive feedback and generally just love to hear people's thoughts on what I've written!
> 
> Thanks x

Tony slowed his white Audi convertible to a stop at the airfield, at the same time as the doors to his jet opened up on the private airfields tarmac. Perfect timing, he thought as he smiled. He lifted his sunglasses from his face to rest on his head, holding his short hair back, before giving the kid clamouring down the jet’s fold out steps a wave and thumbs up. Harley brushed the hair from his eyes as he jogged over to the car, his backpack slung over one shoulder. Kid was perhaps an understatement, Tony thought, Harley had recently turned into a teenager and seemed to be taller, stronger and more confident each time they met.

Harley opened the door and plonked himself down in the passenger seat ungracefully, and Tony was grateful he hadn’t jumped over the door and straight into his seat – like last time.

“Hey,” Tony said, dropping his sunglasses back down over his eyes.

“Hey,” Harley said, smirking. “So, forgive me if I’m wrong, but I’m sure you were supposed to come see me this time?”

Tony shrugged. “I was busy. I had to go to a conference,” he gestured down to the tailored trousers and white shirt he wore. His jacket had been thrown into the back seat. “It was a last minute thing. Unavoidable. Besides, I thought you would like taking a ride in the Stark plane?”

“It’s cool,” Harley said. “The ride was awesome. Kinda makes this look a little lame,” he said, giggling as he knocked on the door of the car.

“Charming,” Tony said, enjoying the banter. “Come on, we need to get back to the tower. I’ve got some stuff to show you. I think we might need to get you a haircut along the way – the Bieber fringe isn’t cool anymore – even he’s got rid of it.”

Harley smirked and ignored the barb about his hair. “Will any of the other Avengers be there? Will, will – Captain America be there, ‘cos he’s so cool? Last time, they were away, and you did say next time you would try to introduce me to-”

Tony snorted, interrupting him. “Rogers is boring. Anyway, I need to show you what I’ve been working on. I want to hear your thoughts on the prototype for my new suit when you see it.”

Harley sat forward in his seat, his face lighting up. “You need my help? … But, after that, do you think I’ll get to meet any of the Avengers, at all?”

Tony playfully punched him in the arm. “You’ve already met the most exciting one,” he laughed. “But I’ll see what I can do, they’re all living in the tower now, most of the time, so I’m sure one of them will be around.”

“Awesome! Hey, did you say you had a prototype for a new, a new suit? I thought you weren’t building any more – I thought you promised Pepper – and you-”

“Enough H, it’s like I’ve got Jiminy Cricket on my shoulder. I’m just building one. Only one. Pepper agreed one would be wise – it’s half way ready, but I want to see what you think. If I can only have one, it needs to be the best right?”

Harley shrugged.

“Do you have any enthusiasm for anything other than Captain boring America these days?”

Harley started to laugh again. “I can’t wait to see the suit, or the Avengers.”

“They we better get moving.” Tony started the engine, and sped away. “Buckle up baby!” He yelled over the engine as the car picked up speed, their hair blowing messily against the wind.

Harley laughed again, it was more of a giggle really, and Tony smiled – he really had missed the kid.

*

The roads were clear and Tony sped down the long winding route, glad of the lack of traffic, he liked nothing more than pushing the car on long empty stretches of road, which this route to the airfield was. After ten minutes or so he checked his mirrors and noticed a black minivan starting to catch them up. Tony smirked – the van was no competition for his sleek sports car. A few more twists and turns of the road and Tony noticed that the van was starting to close the gap on them.

Tony tapped his thumb against the steering wheel as he wondered if the people behind were trying to catch him up – it wasn’t unusual for people to try and overtake him when he was in one of his favourite motors – it was like people were jealous and tried to beat him to make a point – not that he gave a damn – he was the one driving the beauty.

The van continued to catch up, and Tony noticed that the windows were tinted. Even the windshield had a tint – that was unusual. He felt something begin to stir in his stomach, and tried to push it back down. Paranoia wasn’t new to him, he had fought it since the attack on New York, but still – it was unusual. Tony glanced over at Harley who was enjoying the ride, his eyes shut, his face smiling, looking carefree and innocent. He looked back in the mirror at the van behind them. Paranoia or not, he couldn’t take any chances with the kid in the car.

“Hey Harley” Tony called over the noise of the wind. He eased off on the accelerator slightly as he spoke to the boy. “Do me a favour, will you? I need you to lean forward in your seat, towards the foot-well, like the crash landing position on a plane.”“ He tried to sound nonchalant, but something in his voice made Harley respond seriously, whereas he would have normally made a joke. He spun around in his seat, eyed the van, and then looked back at Tony suspiciously.

“It’s probably nothing,” Tony shrugged, "but I want you to get down. And call Jarvis – you still have the phone that I programmed for you, right?”

Harley nodded, pulled the phone from his jeans pocket before leaning forward in his seat, now out of sight, even with the roof down on the car. Tony was watching Harley do as he asked, keeping one eye on the kid and one on the road ahead, and so he didn’t notice the man that appeared from the minivan, his head and shoulders poking through the vans sun-roof, gun in hand. A shot grazed the side of the convertible, smashing through the driver’s side mirror. Tony swore. Harley dropped his phone.

“What was that?!”

“Stay down,” Tony ordered, “and call Jarvis now! Tell him protocol 69, he’ll know what to do.”

Another shot pinged off of the car, this one smashing the windshield, and Tony put his foot down on the gas, hoping to outrun the van – surely his car would be faster. He hit the gas as hard as he could, and felt the vehicle begin to pull. He checked his mirror as he saw the gunman take aim again, and ducked as the shot went wide. The gunman disappeared back down into the van as Tony’s car began to gain speed and pull away. Tony wished he had the roof up – they were too exposed, even as they gained speed and increased the distance, Harley was still in danger.

“I called Jarvis,” Harley yelled from the foot-well, crouched in his seat, his head out of danger. “He said to keep to line open. What’s going on?”

Tony shook his head. “I don’t know.”

The road continued to twist and turn but there was a long stretch of nothing before they would hit the highway and a more populated area that would eventually take them into New York. Tony looked in the mirror; it appeared the van was gaining speed. The gunman was visible again, half in the van and half outside again, holding what looked to Tony to be a bigger weapon than the one he had just fired. He didn’t know what it was, but for a second he feared they would be shot off the road.

The car was now doing 120 mph, how was the van even visible, never mind keeping up? It should be lost behind a cloud of dust. Still, the gap was slowly opening up, that was something. Tony glanced down at Harley. He had to get the kid out of here – whatever was going off – the kid needed to be as far away as possible. A few more sharp bends, Tony took them carefully, and then another long stretch. He had to do something before the van had a long enough stretch to fire that thing at them.

“Harley, listen very carefully.” He glanced down and saw Harley nodding, focused on Tony’s words. “In a few minutes I’m going to pull up. You see the woodlands up ahead on the right? I want you to run to that area as fast as you can, and hide. Keep your phone line open, and Jarvis will find you.”

“What about you?”

Tony smiled. ”I’ll be fine. I’m going to lose these guys. I just need to make sure you’re safe first, okay?”

Harley nodded. The road was stretching out. A few more bends and then they would hit the straight stretch that was usually Tony’s most favourite part of the journey. He glanced in the mirror; the van was a minute behind, maybe two. The bend was coming up. “I’m going to stop very sharply, very soon. Brace yourself and get ready to jump out of the car and run. Hide in the woods, and don’t make yourself visible to anybody until Captain America himself shouts your name. You hear me?”

Harley nodded again, looking worried. Tony was half way around the bend. He held himself back against his seat and slammed the brakes on, the car screeched to a stop. Harley undid his belt, jumped over the door. He clamoured across the road, and climbed up a slight muddy embankment, then headed towards the trees. They were about five hundred feet away – he should make it. The kid didn’t look back. Tony turned the ignition back on, now needing to make up lost ground. He hit the gas and the car pulled easily away, he drove through the rest of the bend, onto the straight road, and didn’t let up on the gas pedal. A few hundred feet down the line and the van appeared back in his mirror. Good. It meant they hadn’t seen Harley – they hadn’t stopped the van – they had no reason to think he wasn’t alone.

The man was still half out of the sun-roof, and Tony watched him as he drove. The man seemed to be aiming, despite the distance between them, and Tony swerved his car onto the other side of the road. A large blast knocked into the area he had just vacated, and the car shook. Tony clung on to the wheel, fought not to lose control. A second explosion, and Tony jerked the wheel, back on to the right side of the road, his heart hammering in his chest – he was going too fast to be driving like this. He had slowed down as he had avoided the two blasts, allowing the van to catch up. He sped up again, pushing the car as much as he could. He glanced in his mirrors again and saw a second guy hanging outside of the passenger window, a weapon in hand.

“Crap,” he muttered, not knowing what else he could do. There was still miles left to cover on the long stretch of road. The passenger began shooting, and Tony could only duck down in his seat, praying he wouldn’t get hit, as he kept an eye on the guy with the bigger weapon that appeared to be taking aim again. But it didn’t matter; the passenger had hit his mark, a rear tire exploded, sending Tony’s white Audi skidding across the road. Tony again fought with the steering wheel, and slowed the car down, scared he was going to flip it as it bounced along the road. The van was getting closer, two men were firing at him, and he was going to crash the car. What would be the worst outcome? Tony wasn’t sure. Either option seemed pretty deadly.

Feeling cornered, Tony decided to try and do what he had instructed Harley to do. He suddenly slammed his breaks on, and the car screeched and shuddered to a stop – the back wheel groaning as he did so. The van was breaking too now, so as not to hit the car. He undid his belt and took off running; the road was lined with steep muddy hills on either side that would lead to the forest area. He ran, pumping his arms as a shot thundered off of the concrete ahead of him, making him jump as he ran. The sloped embankment was getting closer, and Tony tried to ignore the sound of the van’s engine revving as it almost caught him up. A second shot slammed into the ground to his left. Tony refused to look back, he kept running, his feet jarring against the concrete road beneath his white sneakers. He reached the slope and was leaping up it when the bullet impacted against his left shoulder, making him yelp in pain. He lost his footing and fell, rolling back down the slope and onto the road.

He hit the floor hard, shouting out in pain as his shoulder jarred against the hard surface. He tried to roll into a crouch, his right hand now pressed firmly against his throbbing shoulder as he struggled to get up, to keep moving. The van overtook him, screeched to a stop just ahead, the side door slid open and four masked men got out. Tony turned around; ready to start running back in the direction he had come from, away from the men, even though he knew it was hopeless. Before he could do so, one of the men shouted out to him.

“You come with us now, and we’ll forget about the boy hiding in the woods.”

Tony stopped, turned back to face the four men as they began to fan out around him. They had seen Harley in the car.

  
“How do I know I can trust you on that?”

His voice came out haggard, he was out of breath from the desperate run, and his shoulder was on fire from the bullet that had hit him. He had never been shot before, and it hurt more than he thought it would. He looked at the men, trying to think of a way out. There was nothing, he just had to hope that Harley was well hidden and the team would find him soon.

“You don’t.” One of the masked men said, as another brought his gun up, slamming it into the back of Tony’s neck, the force of the hit knocking him out. Two of the men swooped in to grab their captive before he had even hit the ground. They carried him into the back of the van where he was quickly gagged, blindfolded and restrained, before they checked his pockets. Empty. The van started back up, turned around and headed the short distance back to the sports car Tony had abandoned. One of the men got out of the van, carrying a can of petrol. He doused the car before throwing a match at it and running back to the van. The minivan sped away, and was almost at the end of the long stretch of road when they heard the explosion in the distance.


	2. Chapter 2

Tony slowly came to consciousness, his mind foggy, his thought process sluggish. Had he been drinking earlier? He braced himself as he gently opened his eyes, expecting the light to blind him and aggravate the usual booze induced headache. Nothing. Instead, he was confused as he realised he couldn’t open his eyes – there was something covering his eyes, he was still in darkness – a blindfold? He tried to reach up to grab at whatever was being used to blindfold him, and realised his arms were tightly bound behind his back. He tried to kick out, and realised his feet too were bound together. Only as he kicked out did he feel the hot pull in his shoulder and he groaned slightly as the pain filtered in, stabbing pains in and out of his shoulder. His groan was muffled – some form of tape held his mouth firmly shut.

What the hell was going on? 

Tony sagged back against the cold floor, wishing his arms were restrained in front of him, at least, to ease the pain in his shoulder. Now he was aware of it he couldn’t shut it out. He squeezed his eyes shut as the memories slowly came back to him, images of Harley, the drive, the chase, and then – damn, he’d been shot. No wonder his shoulder hurt like it did. He could feel the floor moving beneath him and his senses slowly perked up – he could hear noises – an engine. They were moving – he was still in the van. He stayed still then, playing dead, hoping he would hear something. Surely the men who had abducted him were here – at least one of them would be guarding him, right? He tried to listen but didn’t hear a thing.

He must have drifted off again, at some point, because suddenly he felt the van pull to a stop. The side door was slid open; he could hear the hinges as they creaked into action. Then the van dipped slightly as somebody entered, and he felt a hand on his feet, still tied together, pulling him, dragging him across the metal surface of the van. Maybe he had been alone earlier after all. The movement aggravated his shoulder but he didn’t make a noise, play dead, he ordered himself, hoping he could pick up a clue, a sign, a name – any form of data that might tell him where he was, or what the hell was going on.

His legs were dropped suddenly and they jarred against the pavement as his body hung half in and half out of the car. Two sets of hands rolled him out the rest of the way, and he felt his body fall through the foot or so of air before he hit the hard concrete. He wasn’t expecting them to drop him, and it hurt, his head bounced off of the floor hard, but that was nothing compared to the fire that jolted through his shoulder, it felt like a scalpel was scraping against the nerves up and down his arm, around his shoulder, and he realised he was no longer playing dead, he was groaning beneath the tape, and suddenly the pain was too much, and he was going to throw up. No, no, don’t – can’t – he tried to hold it in, but the vomit came, and he couldn’t spit it out – he was choking on it – coughing and trying to gag and not breathing through his nose because he was panicking – this felt just like before, the memory of the water, he had banished it, but now it was back. Can’t breathe- dying – please – not like this-

“Fuck, I’ll do it,” one of the men said, before stepping forward towards the bound man who was grunting, desperately wriggling around on the floor, as much as was possible – bright red in the face, and choking on his own vomit. The man leaned over, and with a gloved hand ripped the tape away from their prisoner’s mouth. He stepped back quickly to avoid the vomit that surged out and splashed against the ground as Tony coughed and gagged and spat and gasped for air, before vomiting some more. 

Laid on his side, Tony tried to move, to get to his knees, to help clear his airway from the vomit, but he couldn’t move, his body too restricted from the tape that held his ankles together. He could feel the vomit smeared against his cheek, but he didn’t care. After what felt like a lifetime he simply laid still, one cheek pressed against the gravel floor, mixing with the mess, breathing in deep, beautifully sweet breaths, breaths that tasted of vomit and bile – he didn’t care, he could breathe again – he was still here – he was alive.

One of the masked men stood watching with distaste on his features, hidden beneath the balaclava he wore, like the other three. Their driver had already taken the van away as soon as they had dropped their target onto the ground – he had been directed to a woodland area 200 miles away where he would then incinerate the vehicle.

“This is going to be easy,” he said to his colleague who only nodded. Tony didn’t hear, he was still gulping in large mouthfuls of air gratefully.

The man who had freed Tony’s mouth of the tape turned and shrugged to the others, who nodded, and with that he knelt down next to Tony, grabbed his face with a large, strong hand, the fingers digging in to his chin and jaw as he turned the man’s head to face him. Tony tried to shake his head, to move the hands, but it was impossible. He heard a noise and realised it was the sound of a roll of tape being unwound. 

“No, don’t,” he managed to gasp, before his mouth was once again firmly sealed shut. He tried not to panic, breathing through his nose, ignoring the acrid taste in his mouth, telling himself that it was okay – as long as he could breathe it was okay. 

two sets of hands that had dropped him earlier were back, and Tony braced himself as he was picked up, two hands holding him by his arms, dragging him along the gravel. His feet dragged along the ground below him, and Tony tried to focus on that, on the mess his $5000 shoes would be in, rather than the way his shoulder ached with each step, the feeling of warm blood dripping down his arm, making his shoulder itch. In the end it was too much, he felt his strength leaving him, he was going to lose consciousness again. Why not, he thought as he gave in to it, it couldn’t be any worse than this. He was out cold again before his captors made it to the warehouse, where they deposited him in the room specifically designed to hold him. 

They dropped him on the floor and turned to leave. One of the four men turned to the others. “Should we remove the tape, in case he’s sick again? We don’t want him choking to death before we get what we need?”

A second man nodded, and the man who made the suggestion ripped off the tape, taking some of Tony’s goatee with it. 

*

Harley knew this moment should have been the best moment of his life, but instead it was the worst. Captain America and Hawkeye were escorting him through the tower, the tower he had been so excited to visit – but instead of looking around in awe and bouncing off the walls with excitement, Tony at his side, he was slouched down, hands in his pockets, looking at his feet, following the two superheroes obediently, all enthusiasm gone. 

After taking the lift up to the 55th floor Steve led them into a conferencing room where the other Avengers were waiting. Realising they had come to a stop, Harley looked around at the room, the large table in the middle, and the huge bank of computers at the back. As he looked around the room he noticed two other people were there, the Black Widow herself, and Dr Bruce Banner. Wow, The Hulk was here. He noticed the two new arrivals staring at him, and felt the tiny bit of excitement die down again, because Tony was missing.  
Natasha watched the kid enter the room, and turned to Bruce looking curious. All Clint had told them was that Tony had been with a friend when he was taken. Natasha couldn’t think of any friends other than Happy or Rhodey, so had immediately thought it was a woman, and that Tony was cheating on Pepper. She was relieved to see this wasn’t the case, but still, the last thing she expected was a kid.

Rogers brought Harley over to the two new Avengers he had yet to meet, and they all sat down at the table, making Harley feel more nervous.

“Harley, this is Dr Banner,” Steve said, doing introductions, “and Miss Rushman.” 

“Hi,” Harley said, before looking back down at his hands.

Natasha couldn’t help herself. “Hi Harley, how do you know Tony?”

Harley shrugged. “He’s my friend. I sort of helped him save the world, last year, with the whole Mandarin and Extremis stuff that went off.”

Steve and Bruce smiled, not believing a word the kid said. Natasha obviously didn’t too, but decided to play along.

“Okay, great. You must be good friends then. What were you doing today?”

Harley signed. “He was supposed to come visit me. Instead, he calls me,” Harley talked like an old man, waving his hands as he did so, and Clint couldn’t help but like the kid. “Like an hour before he is supposed to arrive, and tells me there’s a jet waiting to take me to him. He said he needed help working on a suit, and he wanted my ideas. And,” Harley paused a minute, looking down at his hands, “he said if any of you guys were around, he’d introduce me.” He smirked sheepishly as he said this.

“But Tony doesn’t have any more suits, and he doesn’t have the arc reactor anymore either?” Steve asked, confused.

Harley scoffed. “You don’t think he can put a reactor directly into the suit to power it? Anyway, he did destroy them, but he’s building one more. Just in case. Like for back up.”

Steve nodded. None of this made sense, but the kid was convincing. He turned to Bruce. “Did you know about any of this?” 

Bruce shook his head. “No, I didn’t, actually.” He looked little hurt as he answered.

Steve turned his head to the roof, an old habit he hadn’t quite banished yet. “Jarvis, is this true, is Tony working on a new suit?”

“I am not at liberty to say,” Jarvis answered, telling them everything they needed to know. “Master Harley,” Jarvis continued. “It’s a pleasure to see you again.”

Harley grinned, “Thanks J, you too!”

Natasha frowned. The kid was telling the truth – he really had helped Tony out last year.

Before more could be said, a frantic Pepper ran into the room, brief case in one hand, a large bundle of files and papers in the other. She dumped them all on the table before hurrying to face the troupe of people. “Okay, I got your message, where’s Tony, what happened?” She scanned the faces. “Harley!” Harley got up and gave Pepper a hug which she returned tightly. “It’s so good to see you again.”

When their reunion was over, Steve took control of the room. “Pepper, we’re not sure exactly what happened. Harley and Tony were heading back from the airfield, and an unknown vehicle started firing at them. Tony contacted Jarvis, told Harley to hide in the nearby woods, and took off, luring the van away. We found his car, burned out, a few miles away from where Harley was hiding. He wasn’t in the car. We have to assume he was taken.”

“But why, he doesn’t have any suits, the reactors gone, what would they want with him?”

Steve sighed. “I don’t know. But he’s a smart man, and rich, it could be for any reason.”

Pepper felt her eyes well up but pushed it back. Her hand started to shake. She had to stay in control. “Okay,” she said, “me and Harley are going to leave you guys to it – please call me the minute you have anything.”

Steve nodded, smiled slightly. “I will.”

Pepper took Harley by the hand, led him out of the room. They Avengers could hear her chattering away with the kid, she obviously knew him very well. When they were alone Clint was the first one to break the silence.

“Anyone else curious that A) Tony was building a suit and we knew nothing about it. And B) Tony’s friends with some kid who happened to help him beat AIM and the Mandarin?”  
Nobody mentioned the fact that they had all failed to help Tony with the terrorist last year, they all looked similarly guilty. Natasha broke the sullen silence. “Well, what’s done is done. We need to help him now.”

Steve clapped his hands together. “Let’s get to it.”

* 

When Tony came too this time, he was fully aware of what had happened and the fact that he had been taken. He opened his eyes and saw the familiar darkness, could feel the material pushing against his eyes. He flexed his legs and felt that they were still tightly restrained. He did the same with his arms, and hissed at the pain, but was pleased that he had been able to hiss, they had removed the tape from his mouth. Good, progress.

Tony took five minutes, laid still on his side, listening carefully, but he couldn’t hear anything. He could feel his right side going numb from laying with all his weight on it, against the cold cement floor, but he didn’t dare roll over on to his injured shoulder, this would have to do. 

“Hey,” he called out, “anybody there?” Nothing but a slight echo of his voice against the walls.

Getting an idea, Tony straightened out slightly, still on his side, and began to rub his head up and down against the floor. The cement felt uneven against his cheek as he continued to shrug his head up and down. The texture grated against his face, hurting a little, but he ignored it. It was worth it, after a minute of two the blindfold became dislodged. He continued on and eventually the blindfold dropped down around his neck, he could see again. “That’s better”, he whispered to himself as he got his first look at where he was.  
The room was dark, four stone walls, a high ceiling, and a concrete floor, with several drains drilled in. That made his stomach churn a little. One of the walls held a door, it looked strong, steel maybe, with big chunky hinges holding it in place. He expected it would be locked. 

After taking a look around the room, Tony decided he needed to move. He slowly tried to shuffle his way to a corner of the room, knowing it would be more comfortable, and easier on his aching arms and shoulders, if he could slouch against a corner. He painstakingly made his way across the room, shuffling his hips and wriggling his body from left to right as he inched his way across the floor. He chose the corner furthest from the door so he could keep an eye on it.

His shoulder ached from the movement, as did his arms, trapped between the floor and his body as he made his way across the floor. The room wasn’t large, but it felt enormous as he inched his way to the wall. Eventually he made it, and he slouched upright against the corner, resting his shoulders against the two walls, letting his arms hang freely. He realised he was panting and he could feel the sweat on his body, he was exhausted. His arms started to tingle with pins and needles as the weight was released from them. He rested his head back against the wall, taking deep breaths to get his breath back, when he finally looked down at his aching shoulder. It was bleeding again, that much was obvious from how the blood was pooling into his shirt, but he was sure that was a result of the movement, and left alone the blood would start to clot again. He hoped so. He couldn’t move his shirt to take a better look, so he dropped his head back against the wall, forgot about the gunshot wound, closed his eyes and tried to rest.

He tried to keep track of time, but it was difficult. He dozed off a few times but each time he woke he was still in his corner, still tied up with copious amounts of tape, still alone. Eventually he heard a loud snapping sound, followed by a clang. Tony sat up straighter in his corner, suddenly very alert. He heard a scratching sound, and realised it was a key. Tony held his breath as the large door was opened and four men walked into the room. It was the same four from the van earlier; they all wore the same leather jackets, surgeon style gloved hands, and woolly balaclavas hiding their faces.

They walked in, stood around him, crowding over him. Tony felt his breath hitch in his chest but was determined not to show it.

“Hey,” he said, and flashed his best Stark smile. “How’s it going guys?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment and let me know what you think!
> 
> Thanks x


	3. Chapter 3

Nobody responded, as Tony had expected. Instead, the largest of the men, and it was at this point Tony noticed how big he really was, stepped forwards, swung his leg back and kicked him in the stomach as hard as he could. With his arms secured around his back there was little he could do to protect himself. He yelped out as the foot hit, pain thrumming through his midsection, and automatically folded in on himself, which was a mistake, given it only pulled on his strained arms and aggravated his shoulder further. He gasped for breath, winded from the hit, and tried not to flinch when the man pulled out a knife. A second man came forward, grabbed Tony by the arm and threw him on to his stomach. Tony held his breath as the big man cut through the tape on his legs, and then his wrists. As soon as his arms were released they dropped to his sides on the floor and Tony couldn’t help but cry out in pain again at the movement. His limbs were stiff and the movement hurt – shit, it really hurt. He needed to get some circulation back into them.

His vision blacked out for a minute and Tony struggled to hold on. He could feel the strong arms of the two men rolling him on to his back now, and the feel of cold metal against his wrists. They cuffed him, then the large man grinned at Tony as he lent over him, pulling the blindfold back up in place. He felt somebody pull on the chain between his cuffed hands and Tony stumbled to his feet, struggling to stay upright as he was pushed and pulled out of the room. It wasn’t long before he was pushed into a seat and Tony was grateful, he really was, as the hands let go of the cuffs, allowing his hands to drop into his lap. His arms were still aching, they had seized up earlier, and the movement had again jostled his shoulder. 

Tony tried not to jump as he felt a hand brush against the side of his head, but then the blindfold was pulled away and light filtered in. Tony looked around, squinting lightly in the light, and watched as one of the four goons began to tie his legs to the chair using the same tape from before. He let out a sigh of relief when he moved away after restraining his legs, leaving his hands cuffed in front of him, he was grateful for this small mercy. He looked around the room, it was similar to the other one he had been brought from, other than a large one way window on one wall, and the steel chair he was sat in, which was bolted to the floor. Other than that it was the similar concrete walls and not much else.

Tony watched as two men left the room, leaving through a metal door next to the mirror/window. It slammed shut behind them. Tony looked at the two remaining men, watched them as they stood before him, one to the left of his chair, one to the right. 

“So,” Tony said, all bravado, “what now?”

The larger of the two men spoke, only his eyes and teeth showing beneath the balaclava. His voice was cold, it sent a shiver down Tony’s spine. 

“Where is the chip?”

Tony looked confused. “What?”

The smaller goon leaned forward, punching Tony in the face, sending his head spinning backwards, his eyes snapped shut at the impact.

“Ow,” he said, glaring at the guy who had hit him. He looked small, but he clearly had some muscle behind his cheap looking jacket. 

The big man spoke again. “Where is the chip?”

Tony was confused. “Chip? Can you be more specific?” He took a breath. “Are you talking about casino chips, oven chips, a-“

Another punch shut him up, whipping his head back again as the blow crunched against his cheek. Tony groaned quietly as he blinked his eyes open and shut for a second or two as he dealt with the pain. He looked at the smaller man angrily. “Will you stop doing that?” He snapped.

“Mr Stark. We want the data chip. You have it. Where is it?”

Tony was genuinely confused, he hoped it showed on his face. “I own Stark Industries. I have thousands of data chips. Can you please be more specific?” There was a slight whine to his voice now, but damn it, he was annoyed, he genuinely had no idea what they were asking for.

The big man took a step forwards, leaning right down into Tony’s bruising face, so close their noses were almost touching. 

“I’ll be more specific. I want the chip. The chip that was taken into Stark Tower five days ago.”

Tony looked incredulous. The man stepped back. “Look, firstly, say it don’t spray it. And honestly, your breath, it’s kinda off putting, I don’t want to be rude, but you could benefit from some breath mints. And as for this chip,” he emphasised the word, “I honestly have no idea which one you are referring to, as I imagine there are hundreds if not thousands of them in the tow-“ He screamed out as the smaller man, suddenly behind him, when had that happened?, reached down and squeezed his shoulder. The wounded one, the one with a freaking hole in it. The pain was so intense he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think – shit – the small guy released him, but it still hurt, still throbbed, left him panting for breath, spots in his vision, fighting the urge to throw up again. Actually, he thought to himself, tasting the sick from earlier, I could do with a breath mint. He started to laugh, couldn’t help himself, but he quickly stopped as the large man began speaking again. Concentrate, he told himself sternly. 

“Captain America himself delivered that chip to the tower. Do you honestly expect us to think you don’t know anything about it?”

Tony was still panting for breath, his shoulder hurting, bleeding, throbbing, making him feel faint. His head swirled slightly. Steve had a chip? What were they talking about? “Look,” he said, his voice sounding a little defeated, a little strained, less bravado than he liked. “I don’t know what you are talking about.”

“We were generous, Mr Stark, we didn’t pursue the boy, as we promised. We have kept our faces covered, as a show of faith, that we will let you go when we have what we need. But now we need something in return - the chip. We would prefer it if you just gave it to us, but if we have to, we will make you talk.” Tony didn’t doubt this, these men were clearly professional.

He shook his head, hoping to convey his honesty. “If I knew what you wanted, maybe I could help you. But I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The little guy made a move for Tony’s shoulder again, and he flinched, trying to curl in on himself as much as was possible, given his was trapped in the chair. The little guy laughed. The large man sighed. 

“We know you have the chip. You will tell us where it is.” He turned to look at the little guy, who nodded his head twice. “I’ll leave my friend here to persuade you. I’ll be back in a while. I hope you will be more compliant.” 

The big guy left the room. Tony looked wearily at the little guy. “Look, I really don’t know about this chip.”

The smaller guy laughed slightly, rubbing his hands together, an old trick to try and intimidate him. Tony smiled, asking “I don’t suppose your loyalty is for sale?” He asked lightly, raising an eyebrow and forcing a smile. “I don’t know if you are aware of this, but I am a billionaire.”

The little man shook his head and approached the chair slowly. Tony signed. “Great,” he said, trying to brace himself. “Fantastic.”

*

Bruce passed Pepper a mug of coffee, led her towards the kitchen table, his hand gently pressing against her back as he directed her.

“Where’s the kid?”

Pepper smiled, but her eyes looked tired. “I left him in the workshop. He should be home by now, but he asked me to call his mum, he wants to stay until Tony gets back.”

“Is that wise?”

Pepper shrugged. “He’s actually helping distract me, having him here. He’s a smart kid.”

Bruce smiled. “I meant leaving him in the lab.”

“He loves it down there. Jarvis is keeping an eye on him. He’s smart, and into science and robots, he actually reminds me a little of Tony.”

Bruce pretended to grimace. “The world only needs one Tony Stark.”

Pepper laughed a little, then took a sip of her drink. “Any news at all?”

Bruce shook his head slowly. “No, I’m sorry. We’re monitoring all channels – nothing has come in, no demands for money, nothing unusual on Stark Industries side of things.”

“Any leads at all?”

Bruce sighed. “All we got from Harley was that he saw a black van. We’re tracking down literally all black vans, but as you can imagine, even Jarvis is struggling. It’s going to take time.”

“It’s been hours already.”

Bruce rubbed her arm gently. “You have to be strong.”

“What if he’s dead?”

“He isn’t,” Bruce said, his voice warm. “That’s one thing I’m sure of. They wanted him alive.”

“Then they’re hurting him, whoever has him, trying to make him build something…”

Bruce swallowed hard. “It’s possible. Or, maybe they are just holding him for ransom, being quite to notch up the fear, so we pay whatever price tag them put on him. We just don’t know. I know it’s hard, but you can only wait. The team are working non-stop, and I promise you, we will find him.”

Pepper felt tears well up in her eyes. “He’s only just recovered, properly, from getting the reactor removed, his heart fixed.”

Bruce nodded. “I know, it was hard for him, and whatever is going on it a set-back for sure, but without the reactor, he’s stronger. The arc reactor was a weakness we always feared he would be targeted for, but they can’t use it against him now.”

“It he still had it, Jarvis might have been able to trace him.”

“Don’t think like that.”

“It’s true, and I made him get rid of it.”

“Miss Potts,” Jarvis cut in, making Bruce jump slightly. “Sir could not be made to do anything he didn’t want to. And even with the arc reactor technology, I may not have been able to trace him.”

Pepper smiled. “Thanks Jarvis.”

“Please remain strong,” the AI continued, and Bruce marvelled at this technology, this person, this thing Tony had created. “Harley is asking if he can visit the second lab, the one belonging to you, Mr Banner.”

“Um,” Bruce looked to Pepper.

“He’s a sensible kid,” she said, in Harley’s defence.

“Okay, but please-“

“Don’t worry Sir, Harley will be under strict supervision at all times.”

“Thanks.”

Pepper drained her drink. “I need to clear Tony’s schedule, he has a busy week planned in but I’m going to move everything around.”

Bruce nodded. “Do you need a hand? I’m not good with schedules but maybe I can…” 

Pepper smiled, how did Bruce manage to be so soothing, so calming, despite his lurking alter ego? “No thanks, you should probably get back to the others.”

“Yeah, I’ll be in touch, if I hear anything.”

*

How long had it been? Hours, only hours, Tony was sure. He tried to keep track of the time, knew it was important. It had to be hours – surely they weren’t into days yet? He knew how easily time could distort in these situations – in Afghanistan he felt like he had been there a year or more, when it fact it had only been 3 months. 

The little guy sure hadn’t wasted any time. He had started with an eager beating, which left Tony bruised and aching in the chair, his ears ringing, head throbbing and mouth tasting of blood, which, let’s be honest, tasted much better than the bile. Another hit to the face, not so bad this time, the back of a hand? Tony squinted an eye open, blinking back the dark spots that hovered around him. He hurt and he was tired and annoyed but this certainly wasn’t going to break him.

“Tell me about the chip.”

“We’ve been over this already. Please, have the decency to pay attention. Listening skills are invalu-“ A punch to the stomach this time, cutting him off mid flow, making him lean forward, protecting the area with his cuffed hands from further assault as he gasped for breath. 

“How do we recover it?” 

“Who has access to the data stored on it?”

“Where in the tower is it located?”

Each new demand was punctuated with a kick, a hit, a slap, a punch, a threat, a fistful of hair pulled tightly, a grab or a poke at the bullet hole… It was starting to hurt, more. Or maybe he was feeling even more tired than before. When did he last sleep, he wondered? The earlier blood loss from his shoulder had to be taking its toll surely. And he felt annoyed, irritated even. Angry, perhaps, because he had no idea what these men were talking about, he couldn’t answer their questions, even if he wanted to. If he had the information, he would cling to it, find inner resolve to hold on, to not give up – but this, this was frustrating. And amidst the pain and the hurt and the confusion a small voice niggled at the back of his head: What is this chip? Why does Steve have it? Why is it in the tower? Why did nobody tell me about this?

Another hit to the face, splitting his lip, he groaned as his head lolled against his chest, only semi-conscious now. A hand was suddenly in his hair, holding his head up. “Pay attention,” the man growled in his ear, before gently tapping his shoulder. Tony blinked again, trying to do as ordered. 

“Look,” he slurred, “I don’t know-“

The hand squeezed, and Tony’s protest ended abruptly as a scream forced its way through his mouth. The man moved away, pacing, and Tony’s head again dropped to his chest as he gasped for breath and fought down the urge to both vomit and pass out. Stay alert, he told himself mentally as he raised his cuffed hands against his shoulder as much as he could, hoping to protect the area, maybe ease the pain a little too.

“You know,” the man chided, pacing back and forth before him. “Maybe you don’t know. I wouldn’t trust you.” The words stung more than they should. “After all,” the man continued. “You’re Tony Stark, not Iron Man.” 

‘We are one and the same,’ Tony thought angrily, but didn’t rise to the provocation. Was the man trying reverse psychology? Well it wasn’t going to work – not that he even knew what they wanted from him to begin with.

“You really are the weakest link in the chain, aren’t you?” Another hand in his hair, forcing his sweaty, bruised and bleeding face up to look him in the eyes. “I wouldn’t waste my time coming for you either.”

And again, the words stung. Because – where were they? Were his team even looking for him? Anger started to rise in his stomach, but he fought it down, remembering what he had been told thousands of times in his life: Losing your temper achieves nothing.

The hand tapped his face, patronising, and the man’s voice was smug as he continued to berate him. 

Eventually man released his grip, turned away and continued his pacing. Tony was angry. He let his head loll against his chest as he took a deep breath. Relax, he told himself. 

He looked up as the man paced by him, then turned. He was close, but his back was turned. Tony didn’t even think about it, just acted. He leapt up from his chair, as much as was possible, given that his ankles were tightly taped to the chair legs. He reached out with his arms, pulled his hands over the man’s head, yanking him back in the process, taking him by surprise. Tony fell back in his chair, the chain of his cuffs pulled against the guard’s neck, pulling him into Tony’s lap. Tony immediately began to squeeze, the man’s body flush against Tony’s chest as he pulled the cuffs back against his neck with all his strength, choking the man. The guard pushed against the hands that were suddenly strangling him but struggled to fight him off. Tony continued to squeeze. 

The man beneath him started to panic, he tried to head-butt Tony but was too low, the blow glanced off Tony’s chin. He elbowed Tony in the stomach but it was weak, his strength was faltering. 

‘Come on, come on,’ Tony told himself as the man weakened in his grip. ‘I don’t need them to find me I can do this myself,’ Tony grunted in the dying man’s ears as he continued to pull on the chain of the cuffs.

A siren began to wail. Tony faltered slightly, looking around, wondering where the noise came from. The one-way mirror. Shit. The lights went out, then suddenly started to flash on and off in line with the deafening siren. The door opened, through the sharp blasts of light Tony watched as three men came running in. He held on as tight as he could, desperately trying to maim the man in his lap while he had the chance.

The men reached him, he felt something hit him hard in the head the same time as something slammed into his shoulder, and then strong arms were on his hands, pulling his wrists up, forcing him to release the man. He tried to fight but it was useless, they were too strong. The siren was still blaring and the blinding light continued to flash on and off. Tony looked up, saw a glimpse of a taser before it was held against his chest and he felt his body jerk and spasm, and then there was nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment and let me know what you think!
> 
> Thanks x


	4. Chapter 4

Tony opened his eyes, looked around the room, as best as he could without moving his head from the floor. His face was a mass of swollen, bruised and bloody flesh. His eyes were swollen, the left one leaving dark splotches in his field of vision. He was back in the empty room, the one with nothing but drains in the floor. It didn’t really matter – there was no longer any distinction between the two rooms – when they moved him and tied him to the chair – they hurt him – when they moved him and left him on the floor – they hurt him.  
It was an endless cycle. His memories were fragmented, of the time since his escape attempt. He remembered being hit with the taser, and waking up afterwards, his body twitching uncontrollably, and the man he had tried to kill standing over him, a vicious bruise lining his neck where Tony had tried to choke him to death. 

“Did I do that?” he asked, knowing he would regret it – but hey, he’d regret it anyway, they weren’t not going to hurt him, so why not?

The little guy he tried to kill had then unleashed an almighty beating. The large guy was present at all times, but he didn’t intervene. Tony had hoped he was there to make sure their hostage wasn’t killed in the onslaught, but apparently that wasn’t the case, he was just an observer.

The little guy was angry, that was clear, it was expressed with his fists, his feet, he punched and kicked and stomped and spat and Tony curled up as best as he could and drifted in and out of consciousness in-between. There were no questions this time, no demands, just punishment. 

At one point a bucket of water was emptied over his head, waking him, shocking him out of a slumber, and he blinked away the water, panicking suddenly, almost back in Afghanistan, but then he saw the little guy, up in his face, and remembered. It wasn’t relief that flooded him, it was, realisation. He curled up a little more in on himself, then the large guy was on him too, his strong arms holding him down against the floor, pulling his left leg out from its protective curl, as the little guy removed his shoe and sock. Tony tried to pull his leg back, but he was too weak – hell, he could barely lift his head from the floor, how the hell was he going to fight two of the men off?

Tony didn’t know what they had in store for him, and he didn’t care to find out. “Look,” he gasped, his voice more slurred than he realised. His face hurt when he spoke, like, really, really hurt, and he wondered if his jaw was broken. “I don’t know any-“

The big guy slapped him across the face. His head smashed back against the concrete and stars whizzed across his vision. Either the big man was really strong, or Tony’s face was really messed up for a slap to hurt so much. Maybe it was a bit of both. 

The little man was up in his face again, sneering. “We’re not interrogating you right now, you little shit,” he hissed, his face so close to Tony’s their noses were almost touching. “I’m teaching you a lesson,” he spat, “You tried to escape. Now I’m going to break your f**king leg. Let’s see if you try it again.”

Tony tried to wriggle out of the men’s grasp but it was futile. He was so god damn weak, and it hurt, it already hurt so much, everywhere. He tried to kick his feet out, to struggle, but the man’s weight rested on his knee, forcing his leg out straight, they had rolled him on to his back and he hadn’t even realised it. 

Tony felt panic start to rise. His breath was hitching in his throat. A wild thought occurred to him – everything hurt so much already, would this new injury even register? Hell he’d been beaten half to death, tasered and shot – surely the body had a cut-off point where it went numb? 

The little guy stood over his victim, Tony didn’t even notice, he was still wondering if it would hurt, he was surprised when the man brought his steel capped boot down on the exposed ankle, pain thundered through him, a long yell escaped from his mouth, making his jaw and face ache in line with his ankle, and suddenly he was laughing, hysterical again, because why the hell would this not hurt, he was stupid, delirious maybe. The man brought his boot down again, this time higher up, on the calf, and it hurt, it really f**king hurt, this time his yell was more of a cry, he couldn’t help it. He thrust and bucked against the big man holding him down but it achieved nothing, just left him panting for breath and sweating and aggravated his other wounds. The third, fourth and fifth hits were in quick succession, his foot bearing the brunt of it. He was screaming now, long screaming wails of pain as his bone and toes and flesh were stomped and crushed and mangeled against the floor. It was too much, he passed out, but they were prepared. 

The little man waved smelling salts under his nose and Tony woke, startled, still sweating profusely, his breath still coming in terrified and pained gasps and hitches as the little guy smiled at him and it started again. After that it was a haze. He remembered disturbed fragments, he remembered screaming, he remembered vomiting again; the first time over himself and the big man holding him down, the second time, over the floor, the big man learning from the first time. He remembered more pain, focused in his foot, then higher up his leg. He remembered the little guy, rubbing his face in the pool of vomit, prodding his shoulder, hurting his leg, his foot. He could hear his own screams, his tears, the smell of blood, vomit, and then, he remembered with shame, the smell of urine. He could hear the laughter, the taunts, the jeers, the sound of his own broken cries. It was all too much.   
Eventually they had tired. The big man had released his grip. The little man had rubbed his hands together, satisfied with the broken mess of a man at his feet, crying, sobbing, still trembling against the floor, eyes squeezes shut with pain and terror.

“You think we need to tape his ankles back together?” The little guy asked the big man, grinning as he saw the fear on their captive’s face. “Huh,” he asked Tony, kicking a foot against his good leg, the one they hadn’t broken and crushed. “You going to try and escape any time soon?”

Tony shook his head as best as he could, fighting down the urge to both throw up and pass out. “No,” he whispered, his voice quiet, strained and hoarse from all of the screaming.  
The man turned to the big guy and grinned, clearly enjoying his moment after his earlier embarrassment of being taken and almost killed by the hostage. “I can’t hear you?”   
He crouched closer to Tony, holding a hand against his ear. “Was that ‘No Sir, I’ll be a good boy?’”

Tony felt his humiliation deepen, but he was going to comply, he was not going to antagonise the man any further. “No sir,” he gasped, his voice almost unrecognisable. He squeezed his eyes shut and winced at the pain in his throat. “I’ll be a… good boy.”

The man slapped his cheek and ruffled his hair, making Tony flinch and then shudder. He couldn’t help it. 

The larger man moved into view now, and he pointed his gloved hand over at Tony. Tony couldn’t help but notice the blood smeared along the blue tint it had. “We’ll be back shortly, to continue our discussions from earlier. I hope you are more willing to cooperate now.”

The door closed, the slam of it making him flinch again. Tony closed his eyes. Don’t look at the damage, he instructed himself. His mind whirled. He was in pain. That was an understatement. He was in agony, everything hurt – breathing hurt – thinking hurt – being hurt. He tried to regulate his breathing but he was scared – they were going to come back and continue questioning him, continue hurting him. What could he do? He didn’t have the god damned information! His breathing accelerated and he realised he was having a panic attack. He fought it down, as best as he could. He rolled slightly on to his side, the wrong side, it jarred his leg and shoulder and suddenly he was retching again, coughing up bile. He tried to shift away from it but some still caught his good shoulder, covering the torn shoulder and sleeve, vomiting mixing with cotton and blood and sweat. 

He closed his eyes. Tried to sleep. It hurt too much. He was scared. His body kept twitching, every so often his leg would judder. He wondered if he was going into shock. He   
wondered if anybody was looking for him. He closed his eyes, they stung from crying, he hadn’t been able to help it. He started to cry again, quietly, he felt so helpless. Eventually unconsciousness claimed him, pulled him away from his miserable reality.

*

The four man stood in the viewing room, still wearing their balaclavas and gloves. They were always careful.

“You went too far,” one of the men admonished the small guy. “He could die. We need the information.”

The little guy was defiant. “I didn’t go too far. I punished him. And I broke him. When we go back in there, he will tell us everything.”

“And if he doesn’t, we’re limited on how much we can hurt him, seen as though you left him half dead in there!”

“I’ll go back in there, do to his hands what I’ve done to his leg, or maybe I’ll do the other leg?” He smirked. “Either way, I’ll get the information.”

“What if he doesn’t have the information?” The third guy asked.

The big guy held his hand up. “You’re right. One, we went too hard on him, we’re going to have to make sure we keep him alive. Two, we don’t know for sure he has the   
information. But I have an idea.”

*

Tony came too later, but it was strange, he was awake, but he wasn’t. He could hear people shouting in the background. He could feel somebody hurriedly opening the cuffs, felt his wrists move apart. Somebody had freed him from the restraints. He could feel somebody lightly slapping his face, and something sharp in his arm, was it an injection? He felt his body being moved, lifted, and then, he wasn’t on the cold floor anymore. He was on something soft, it felt… nice.

He tried to open his eyes but all he managed was a groan. 

“He’s waking up,” one voice called, and another yelled out “give him a second shot.”

He could hear more frantic voices, feel hands on him. Something pushed against his shoulder and he lurched in pain, nearly falling from the stretcher, hands held him against it.

“He’s going into shock.” 

“Give him some morphine, stat!”

“Tony, are you okay?”

“Get back! We need to administer…”

He groaned again, opened a blurry eye, the other must have swollen completely shut, saw people stood over him, blurred figures. Was he on a, a – stretcher? Were they medics? His eyes closed again.

“Severe trauma to the leg-“

“Gun-shot wound to the shoulder-“

“Tony!”

The voices fed in and out of each other, and he felt warmth spread through him. Drugs. Was it morphine? Whatever the hell it was, he wanted more of it. Were these people paramedics? Had SHIELD found him? He tried to open his eyes but they were too heavy. He tried again, saw what looked like Captain America standing at his side, helping carry the stretcher. 

“Steve,” he slurred, before his eyes closed again, the drugged haze pulling him in.

“Everything’s going to be okay.” They were the last words he heard before he finally lost consciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think! x


	5. Chapter 5

“Tony, can you hear me?”

“He isn’t responding…”

“You’re going to be okay.”

“Tony-hey, Tony, look at me!”

Tony heard voices, but they seemed… distant. He tried to open his eyes, but it was hard, so hard, everything felt – heavy. With an effort he managed to blink his eyes half-open, they fluttered for a moment then fell shut again.

“He’s awake!”

A hand gently cupped his cheek, he felt another land on his hand. “Open your eyes Tony. You’re safe, but this is important, we need to speak to you.”

It seemed like an eternity before he could open his eyes again, and he realised only one was working. He couldn’t do it, he realised, he was too tired. His eye fell shut again. He heard a sigh; then more requests for him to open his eyes. It was impossible. He tried to speak instead, but he couldn’t form words, instead a thin line of drool made its way down his chin and he couldn’t lift his hand to wipe it away. What’s wrong with me? He was so tired. He could hear the voices, still speaking to him, demanding his attention, but he couldn’t give it. He let himself drift back off into oblivion, it was better there.

*

Tony woke later. He lay still against the pillows, as awareness slowly came back to him. The room he was in was warm, he felt hot, and he could feel sweat matting his hair against the pillow. Pillow? He was in a bed? Suddenly memories came back to him, slowly swirling through his mind. He could remember fragments, disjointed images of pain and screaming and vomit and questions – torture – he had been taken, he remembered – was Harley okay? 

He opened his eyes and only one complied, the skin around it felt tight and ached, the other clearly swollen shut. He tried to lift his head up, bracing himself with an expectation of pain, but he couldn’t move. His body felt heavy. He lay still, instead, looking up at the ceiling, it seemed to be swaying back and forth, even though the darkness he could see it swirling and twirling above him. 

Drugs, Tony realised, I’m drugged. That explained the absence of the pain which was an all too vivid memory. Even in his cluttered and confused mind he remembered that one thought vividly – pain. Anxious now, Tony tried to lift his head again, to look around, to see where the hell he was, a hospital perhaps? But he couldn’t, his body wasn’t obeying his commands. Strong drugs, he thought, and then a laugh suddenly left his lips. His throat hurt and his voice sounded foreign to him but he laughed and laughed and laughed hysterically. He couldn’t feel the tremors running through his body as it shook against the bed frame. Was it with relief? He didn’t know but he couldn’t stop and he laughed and howled and tears sprang from his eye and then he was still laughing but crying at the same time and he couldn’t control it. Suddenly he was exhausted again and he stopped laughing as he realised the ceiling was still swirling, dancing before him. He was still drugged and numb and empty. He drifted away again in the cocoon of the drugs, a slight hint of a smile on his chapped and bleeding lips. 

*

The two men watched the screen with worry. Once Tony settled back down they left the viewing room and entered the medical room, boots echoing over the cement floor. One of the men reached out and slapped their prisoner against his swollen face, but Tony didn’t stir. The little guy looked to the big guy. “A few more hours, he should be more aware.”  
The big man nodded. “Have Smith check on him every hour. He needs to be drugged enough to think I’m an alley, functional enough to talk. We don’t want to miss our window.”  
The little guy nodded. He rubbed his hands together as he stood over the captive, surveying the damage to him, the bloated, bruised and bleeding face, the shoulder wound, hastily wrapped in bandages by the false medics, both to stop the bleeding, (they didn’t want to kill him too soon), and to make this look real. He smiled as he remembered the men cutting away Stark’s torn and bloodied shirt, gasping at the bullet wound, they had not seen one before. Clearly they were not as professional as their first team, but they had still performed their duties well for a first operation. They had wrapped the shoulder and nothing else. What could they do to the chest and ribs, littered with bruises and scrapes and here and there, the little guy remembered gleefully, the full boot prints that reflected against the swollen skin. He rubbed at the bruising on his own neck as he looked on the body of the prisoner, and felt anger rise up again. Stark had attacked him and made him look like an idiot – he was a professional, it shouldn’t have happened, but he couldn’t deny how he had enjoyed taking his retribution, destroying the man’s body (and spirit) as he had questioned him.

He couldn’t deny that the two of them, both himself and his oversized colleague may have got a little carried away with the damage to the leg, but, he reasoned to himself, he had to make sure their captive couldn’t try to escape again. One of the fake medics had vomited after they had cut away the stained fabric of the designer trousers with shears, leaving the captive in his black boxer shorts. The skin on his leg was swollen, pulsing with blood and discharge and what could possibly be bone fragments. From the calf down, the entire thing was a mess. The ankle hideously swollen, the foot blue and black and hanging at a sharp angle, indicating another break, at least. The medic had looked at it with uncertainty, before turning to the two professionals with a frown. “What do you want us to do with this?”

The little man’s colleague had taken charge. “Can we…” He paused, realising he too had no idea what to do. “Leave it,” he finally decided, “if this doesn’t work, and he still needs convincing, we’ll keep at it.” The fake medics had paled at that, but nodded, leaving their prisoner high as a kite with a slightly-treated shoulder on the bed in the make shift hospital room they had set up.

The big guy sighed in frustration, looking around the room, ignoring Stark – he was no use to them like this. But, he thought, the room was convincing, and in a few hours’ time, they should be able to proceed. The two men were both eager to get on with it, they had done a check on the prisoner three times now and each time he was too high to be fully conscious, never mind functional. The “paramedics” had clearly given him too much, but surely he would sleep it off soon, and they had more drugs should they need them – the guys they had hired had given them an ample supply before they had taken their money and scurried away. 

*

It was hours later, when Tony surfaced again of his own accord. He came too slowly, his thought process sluggish. Drugs, he remembered suddenly. He tried to banish the memories of his capture and subsequent torture as they filtered through his mind, the images more structured than when he had last woken, but his memory was still fragmented, nothing flowed. Definitely still drugged, he thought, deciding that could only be a good thing. But he was still tired, and his eyes remained shut, he really didn’t want to face reality right now.

As he lay as still as possible, he realised how quiet the hospital room was. How often were these places quiet? Even in the private one he had visited once or twice previously, there was only so much they could do to limit the noise. Suddenly Tony heard the sound of a door opening, followed by cold steps against the floor, and he jumped slightly against the bed, startled by the coincidence of his thought process colliding with reality. He opened his eyes, the room was still swirling, but not as fast. He still had just the one working eye, and, he realised as spots appeared blotting the view, that one working eye was struggling to do its job. 

Everything felt slow, like he was walking underwater. He realised somebody was talking to him, and there was a hand on his forearm. Tony tried to angle his head on the pillow, he twisted so he lay on his left cheek, looking up as best as he could at his visitor. A tall figure stood over him, but in the dim room and with his poor eye it was hard to make him out. He realised the person was speaking to him, but the words were hard to decipher, they all seemed to roll into one. 

“Tonyyyyyyyy,” the voice called. 

He heard more words, sensed an urgency, but he couldn’t concentrate. He tried to listen, to pay attention, but it was hard, he could barely make the man out and he was stood only a foot away. 

The voice was loud, distorted. Everything moved in slow motion. Drugs, Tony thought again, I’m on more drugs than I realised… He tried not to think about that, to listen.

The voice was still talking; its tone insistent, Tony squinted up, trying to focus. He recognised the build, and after what felt like a lifetime he managed to choke out a “Steve?” 

Speaking hurt and he rolled his head back against the pillow before a coughing fit took over him. It only lasted a few minutes but he was exhausted. That should have hurt, he realised, but his body felt like he was floating, it was blessedly numb. Yet he could still taste the pain, lingering just underneath the surface, ready to drag him back down again, should it decide to do so. “Y’re late,” he slurred, then his eyes drifted shut again. He was so tired. He really wanted a drink of water, but he didn’t have the strength to ask for it, instead he pushed the thought away, feeling grateful that his team had found him.

He could hear Steve, still speaking, but the words were all jumbled up in his mind. He made out a “sorry” in the speech and clung to that. He tried to open his eyes again, and it was hard, he was just so tired. “S’kay” he muttered, turning his head back to the side again, facing his visitor.

Steve leant in, and Tony thought he could see worry on the man’s face, but it was hard, with the spots on his vision, and the darkness – he seemed to be seated in a shadow. He was still speaking, though, and Tony tried again to focus. 

“This is important Tony,” Steve repeated, his hand resting on the pillow next to his head. “We need to know what you told them.”

As he processed the words Tony felt anger slide through him. “No,” he muttered, his eye blinking faster. “No.”

Steve’s other hand moved out to gently grasp his chin, making sure Tony stayed facing him. Tony couldn’t help but flinch. “It’s okay, were not mad at you, we understand, but we need to know if you told them where the chip is?”

Still foggy but now furious Tony tried to shake his head free but he couldn’t. “No,” he said again, then closed his eye as he tried to focus, to gather his words. He had to make Steve understand. “I don’t know,” he gasped, then coughed again. 

Steve released his chin, but his other hand stayed where it was on the pillow, Tony couldn’t help but feel threatened by it. His head swam. He was hot and tired and now he was angry too, how could Steve think he would break? He didn’t break for the Ten Rings, and that time he had actually possessed the information they wanted. What the hell?

“You’re not in trouble,” Steve continued, “we understand. But I need to know what you told them – where you told them the chip is.”

Tony shook his head, he was just so tired, but the anger coursed through him still. He tried to push himself up in the bed, but his arms wouldn’t comply. He shook his head again with frustration. “I don’t know!” He yelled, tears in his eyes, he tried to stop it but he couldn’t, and he felt ashamed as he felt a tear trickle down his face. “You didn’t,” his voice had   
lost the fury in it seconds ago, he was too weak. “I didn’t-“ He paused again, closed his eyes to collect his thoughts, order his words. “I don’t know about the chip.”

“Of course you know, I brought it to you,” Steve insisted. Tony’s eyes remained closed. He shook his head. “You didn’t,” he slurred, voice tinged with confusion. “Why…” his voice trailed off. Why was Steve saying this, why would he do this to him? Tony opened his eye again, blinking away the tear, he rolled his check back on its side to face him. It really was dark in the room, he thought, and his eye really was messed up, blurred and spotty. With Steve leaning back in the shadow of the room, it was hard to make out his face. Tony looked down at the hand, laid flat on his pillow, next to his head. Even in the dim light he could make out the bruised and swollen skin on his hands, his knuckled scraped as though he had been into a fight. 

Tony peered back up at Steve and smiled as realisation hit him. He shuffled back against the pillow. “Steve,” he murmured, “I didn’t tell them where it is, it’s still safe in…” he mumbled, then coughed. Steve leant closer. “Didn’t tell them, they’d find…” He voice was a whisper now. Steve stood over him, their faces just inches from touching. Tony looked up at the figure, smiled and then spat straight in his face. Whilst he would have liked to have mounted some form of attack, he was too weak, too high, but this was better than nothing.

The big man pulled back, startled, then swiped a hand at the spit and blood that had hit his eye and was currently smearing its way down towards his cheek. When his face was free of the residue he looked down on the captive, furious. Tony looked up at the man, angry at their ploy, how convincing it had been, angry with himself for initially being taken in by it, and angry with his team who were still not here. 

“Idiots,” Tony murmured, “stupid fu-“ His rant was broken off as the big man’s first thundered against his cheek, snapping his head back to the side forcefully, blood spraying from the impact against the skin, which had already been torn earlier, dotting red splashes of colour on the pillow next to his head. Tony was unaware, already out cold before his head had stopped rocking from the momentum of the blow.

The big man charged out of the room, furious. He stormed into the viewing room where his three colleagues were waiting for him. 

“What now?” Smith asked, his voice lanced with frustration. 

“Steve” slammed his fist against the wall, this had all been his idea after all. The little guy spoke up, rubbing his hand through his hair. “Wake him up, I’ll interrogate him all over again, this time I’ll break him better, he’ll tell us everything.”

The fourth man spoke up. “There’s no point, he doesn’t know, he said as much earlier.”

“He knew you weren’t Captain God-damn America, that’s why he said what he did!”

“No,” not-Steve said. “I don’t think so; I think he really bought it at first.”

“We’ll see – I’ll make him talk!”

“No.” The fourth man silenced everybody else. “Even if it’s true, you already broke him once and we got nothing. We need to try a new tactic – if we interrogate him again, we’ll likely kill him, we need to get what we can from him while he’s still alive.”

“How?” Smith asked.

The fourth man smiled. “I have an idea. Let’s see how much the Avengers value their Iron Man.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment and let me know what you think!  
> Thanks :)


	6. Chapter 6

“Get him up.”

“He’s too heavy.”

“Wake him.”

After a hard slap to the face, Tony groaned. He could hear voices; feel hands tugging at his arm, grabbing at his shoulders. He tried to hold his head up and it was too heavy, it dropped back down against the pillow. He thought about opening his eyes, as another slap echoed against his cheek, but it was too hard, he was too heavy, and everything felt like it was spinning, even in the darkness. He drifted away, back into a slumber, it was easier that way.

“He’s too f*cking high.”

“He isn’t waking up.”

“How much did you give him?”

“I don’t know, I guessed.”

“Shit.”

“Leave him. Nobody gives him anything else. No more drugs. Let the shit feel the pain. He’ll be more willing to co-operate when he comes around.”

“Are you sure – we need him functioning…”

“For what? We need him conscious.”

“Come on, let’s come back in an hour. We’ll prep the other room.” 

“Cuff him to the bed.”

A laugh. “You really think he’s going to try another attempt at escape?”

“I hope he does.”

“Just do it – cuff him.”

Their prisoners arm was lifted, and cold mettle cuff tightly attached. When the man let go, his wrist dropped to the mattress, a dead weight. Tony didn’t hear the rattle of the cuff against the rail of the bed.

The lights went out, the door was locked, Tony continued to sleep.

*

Harley giggled as Natasha pulled another face at his milkshake moustache. “You know,” she said, “there’s something different about you, but I can’t quite place my finger on it.”  
Harley giggled, pouted his lips then grinned again. “It is your hair?” She reached over to ruffle his hair before throwing him a napkin.

“Tony said that you were the scariest of the Avengers, but I think you’re the nicest.” Natasha tried not to smirk too much at that.

“Stark’s scared of me, is he?” 

“Not scared. He just said you were the most… ca..ca..capable?”

Natasha nodded her head, not sure what to make of the comment. One part of her was proud that Stark viewed her as capable given the abilities of her team mates. But at the same   
time, Stark still viewed her as the one to watch – maybe he was still wary of her after her infiltration of SI and his home. She’ll work on that, she decided, when they got him back.  
Harley wiped at his face before taking another gulp of the shake. “Is your mother okay with you being here?” Harley shrugged. “She seemed okay when I called her. She thinks it’s pretty cool that I’m hanging out with Iron Man.”

Natasha signed. “She isn’t worried about your wellbeing?”

Harley tried to hold back a belch. “She knows I’ll be safe with Tony.” His voice faltered, as though he had forgotten that Stark was missing. “I mean, before- “He paused, staring down into his glass. “He saved me, before, although I did save him too, when the Mandarin’s people were after him, so I guess we’re even.” Natasha nodded. “And he got me out of the car before the bad guys caught us, so I guess… yeah, of course he’d keep me safe, and mom wouldn’t need to worry about that.”

“Are you sure? I’d hate to think of your mother sat at home worrying about you?”

Harley shrugged his shoulders. “Are you trying to send me away? Because I’d really like to see Tony first. I promise mom won’t be worried, she’s too busy, she works every day, at the Diner, and B-Betty, she’s the lady over the road, she comes in to check on my sister, so it’s no trouble. Mom will be too busy to worry.”

Natasha asked the obvious question. “What about your dad?”

Harley stared down at his drink. “He’s gone.” 

Natasha simply nodded. “Okay.”

Harley looked up, a slight smirk on his face. “When I told Tony, he told me ‘Dad’s leave. No need to be a pussy about it.’” He giggled.

Natasha was bemused. Stark sure could be emotionally stunted sometimes. “Well,” she struggled. “Sometimes, Stark has the right meaning, he just gets the phrasing wrong.”

“Well he was right anyway, lots of dad’s leave. Do you have a dad?”

Natasha did not want to go there. “It doesn’t matter, we’re talking about you, and Stark. Now, I want you to tell me again, what happened, when Stark was taken.”

Harley groaned. “I told you, I didn’t see anything, I wasn’t even there I was hiding in a tree!”

“I know, but before that.”

“I told you and Mr Rodgers about the car chase a thousand times.” The boy rolled his eyes, then took another slurp of his milkshake. 

“Okay, tell me about your journey here, and what happened before the car chase. How did you get to New York?”

Harley sighed. “Tony’s plane picked me up. It was so cool, there were video games, and these two ladies got me whatever I asked for – they even made me a cheeseburger in the air, and one of them was really good on the x-box too, she played with me. Did you know you can get an x-box on an aeroplane?”

Natasha smiled again at his enthusiasm. “I think that’s just Stark’s plane, most planes are crappy.”

“Well this one was awesome!”

“These two ladies, did they talk to you about him?”

Harley furrowed his forehead as he thought about the question. “Not really. They said that Tony had told them to look after me, and that they should give me whatever I wanted,   
which I thought was pretty cool.”

Natasha shook her head – trust Tony. “What about the one who played on the x-box with you?” Natasha had already checked out every person who had ever worked on Stark’s plane and they all came up clear, but it didn’t hurt to double check. “Did she mention Stark, or ask you any questions about him, or what you were doing when you landed?”

Harley jumped up suddenly. “Yeah! I forgot, she said, um, what was it? Oh yeah, she asked me to tell Tony that Kelly says hi, and she said that she misses his company, and… oh what was it?.... They should hook up soon and she should call him? She asked me if he and Pepper were together too, and I told her they were, and she said to pass the message on anyway. She said I was to tell Tony how nice she’d been, playing with me and making me the burger. That was all she said though.”

Natasha nodded – clearly the hostess had a personal motive rather than dangerous one, though she was annoyed that whilst Tony had stopped sleeping with his female crew members, he hadn’t replaced them. She might have to have a word with him about that too, well, afterwards.

“And how long had this trip been arranged before-hand?”

Harley shrugged. “A while. Pepper called me, she’ll know. But he was meant to come see me. I’d tidied up the garage and everything. Then he called the night before saying I had to come to see him. But I didn’t mind, ‘cos I really wanted to ride in his plane again.”

Natasha nodded, this was promising. “Why did he change the plans?”

“A last minute conference, I think. He said it was boring.” Harley finished the last of his shake. “Can I go see Captain America? Tony says he’s really boring, but still, I’d really like to get his autograph.”

“Steve’s out.” Again, Natasha thought. Steve was putting a lot of hours in at SHIELD, but had turned no leads up in the search for Tony.

“Well, what about Clint? Yesterday, he said he would teach me how to shoot a bow and arrow, he promised.”

“I think he’s around – see if you can find him.”

“Awesome!” Harley got up and ran from the room, skidding on the kitchen tiles as he rounded the corner. Natasha watched him leave, deep in though. Finally, she broke her silence.

“Jarvis, I’m going to my office. Could you… Can you please pull everything you can find on Harley’s mother, her family, friends, all known associates?”

“Of course.”

Natasha hoped the woman wasn’t connected to this, but she was desperate, and a lead was a lead. Stark had been missing three days, with no word from himself or his kidnappers, and that was worrying. Worse, the team had no leads – nothing to go on – despite Jarvis’ help. Perhaps she was being paranoid, but it was better to be safe than sorry. She made herself a strong coffee and headed back to her quarters, ready to work.

*

Tony opened his eyes blearily, one complied, the other struggled, the skin too stretched and swollen, it hurt to try so he let that one stay closed. He hurt. Everything hurt. Everywhere hurt. He looked around the room as best as he could, a hospital room. Hospital room? His thought process was slow and sluggish as he remembered the men coming to save him – smoke and gunfire and paramedics and-

The door slammed open, and big man strode into the room, still dressed in black, face hidden, blue tinted gloves covering his hands. The rest of his memories flooded in suddenly, and Tony felt his stomach twist and turn as he remembered that the rescue was fake, a ruse, an attempt to break him. He tried to sit up in the bed, to prepare himself or defend   
himself; he wasn’t sure, as the big man strode over, towering over him. 

His right wrist was yanked back as he tried to move, and only then did he notice that they had cuffed his good arm to the rail on the hospital bed. Shit. Unable to sit up fully, Tony shifted in the bed as best as he could in an attempt to look – what? Defiant, brave, strong? He looked down at himself, tried not to shudder as his eyes locked on his leg, the skin bloodied and bruised and swollen and shattered and broken. As he remembered the damage the pain quickly filtered in, his leg and shoulder fighting for dominance over his body, the rest of him hurt too, but there was a clear first and second place in the pain leader chart. 

The big man reached out and grabbed a fistful of his hair, yanking his head up and forcing him to look at his captor, or one of them. Tony almost laughed, that had been his initial intention, to make eye contact, claim some control, but it had hurt too much, and he had failed at that. Now he focused on trying not to flinch as the man released his grip, before moving to stand behind the bed, behind Tony. Tony tried to twist to see what he was going to do, but the man clamped a hand down on his shoulder, the intention clear enough, Tony laid still. The man reached over and again grabbed his hair, yanking his head up off the pillow, and seconds later a blindfold was roughly tied over his eyes, making his vision go black. 

Tony let out an angry “hey!” but that was as far as he got before his sore throat began to protest, forcing him into a long cough, when he finished his throat felt raw, and the room was silent. Was the man still there? Over the coughing fit, Tony didn’t hear the second man enter the room, the one with the video recorder. Tony held his breath, listened carefully, but couldn’t hear the large man, if he was still there. He tried to reach up with his unrestrained arm to pull at the blindfold but the joint was too stiff, the wound too painful, he let out a jagged gasp of pain as his arm collapsed uselessly against the bed, and tried not to judder as an aftershock rolled through his shoulder.

Suddenly footsteps echoed in the room, it sounded like somebody was approaching from the foot of the bed. Tony shifted his head against the pillow, frantically trying to dislodge the blindfold, but a hand reached out grabbed his hair again, from behind, and held his head still – Tony nearly jumped in fear – realising he clearly wasn’t alone, at least two men were with him. Great. But the man holding him in place by his hair did nothing for a long moment, and Tony tried to calm himself, and ready himself for whatever the hell was about to happen. 

He lay still, expecting more pain, more questions, more demands. Instead his head was released, and the man behind him spoke quietly into his ear, his breath tickling Tony’s neck, making the hairs on his arms stand up on end. Only then did Tony realise how cold he was, and he remembered the medics had stripped him to his boxer shorts during the “rescue.”

“I’m going to reach over,” the voice whispered into his ear, “and release your wrist from the cuff. If you try to remove the blindfold, I will cut off your arm. Do you understand?”  
Tony tried not to cringe as he nodded his head. After the damage they had already done to him, his wellbeing was clearly not their priority, so he believed the threat, and it terrified him. 

A hand rested on his arm, still restrained, and began to squeeze his wrist. “I said, do you understand,” the voice whispered.

Tony nodded again. “I understand,” he said, his voice soft and croaky, laden with fear.

The hand released his wrist, then suddenly it was patting his cheek, making Tony’s skin crawl.

“Good boy,” the voice whispered, and Tony scrunched his eyes up behind the material covering them. 

Seconds later his wrist was released from the cuff, his arm dropped against the bed. Tony stayed stock still, deciding his best move was to wait for instruction. 

“Get up,” the big man ordered suddenly, and Tony tried not to flinch again. “Get out of the bed now.”

Tony struggled to comply. He pushed himself up using his good arm, keeping his left held closely against his body in the hopes of not jolting the bullet wound too much. Even his slow shuffling movements hurt, his stomach muscles and ribs aching with the movement, but he ignored it all, shifting along the bed cover as gently as possible. He shifted to the right side of the bed, then used that arm to hold tightly onto the bed rail he had earlier been handcuffed to. He slowly twisted his legs to the edge of the bed, trying not to groan from the pain his left leg was throwing at him despite the minimal movement. He slowly lowered himself down from the mattress and slipped onto the floor, letting his right leg take his entire weight, his left one hovering a few inches above the floor as his knee struggled to hold it up.

His right hand was sweating against the rail and his arm was shaking from the strain, but he held his grip as strong as possible, knowing this was the only thing keeping him upright. His body throbbed, his head seemed to hurt more the longer he stood. He felt dizzy and realised he was swaying.

“Now what?” He asked, his voice quiet, laced with anger and a tinge of cockiness. He was angry, he hurt, he wanted to cry and yell and hit somebody, preferably one of the men holding him, but he was also scared, he was weak, hurting and powerless, and the frustration was overwhelming, feeding the anger, leading to a bitter cycle of emotion coursing through him, he couldn’t stop it. 

A hand suddenly grabbed at his right bicep, holding it in a vice grip. “Move!”

Tony was scared, he couldn’t walk, he knew it, his leg was too badly damaged. Stall, he thought, stall for time. How? “Move where?” He asked, and instantly regretted it as the man let go of his upper arm and shoved him forwards. The force was too much, he automatically released his grip on the bed rail, the force and momentum propelling him forwards, he moved, his left foot hit the floor before him and as soon as his weight landed on it, the limb collapsed beneath the strain and Tony hurled to the floor in a shriek of agony that made the big man scrunch his face up with surprise, before a smile leered its way across his mouth. He stood over Tony, watching as the man tried to control his pained moans and loud panting as he lay sprawled on the floor, alternating between holding the limb against his chest and letting go of it – nothing eased the pain. His wail died down in his throat and seconds later he tried to crawl away from the big man, his mangled leg dragging behind him, before he was suddenly sick. Vomit pooled on the floor and once finished Tony couldn’t help but collapse in it as his body shook and trembled and he gasped for breath, almost hyperventilating from the pain. 

The big man crouched down next to Tony, mindful of the mess on the floor, now mixed with sweat and blood, and rolled Tony onto his back. Specs of vomit clung to his hair and the blindfold and the big man leaned away from the mess that was their prisoner, grimacing at the smell. The second man with the camera moved in for a close up parting shot.

“Last chance,” the big man bellowed, starring down at Tony, being held down, his back pressed against the floor and fluids, unable to control the shivers and trembles that wrecked his body. “Where is the chip?”

Tony shook his head from side to side. It hurt, it hurt so badly, and the rage and helplessness and anger and hurt all seemed to come crashing down on him. “I don’t know,” he screamed, his voice suddenly stronger, full of anger and hate and despair. “I don’t know where your f*cking chip is! You know I don’t know!”

He collapsed back against the floor, the man’s large paw holding him down, panting in quick shallow breaths. He could feel tears in his eyes, and he was suddenly thankful for the blindfold. The big man stood up, and the smaller man moved back slightly, so both he and their prisoner would be in the shot. 

“Captain America,” the big man grinned behind his mask as he spoke, enjoying the spotlight. Tony trembled in the background, every so often his body jerked against the floor. “You have our chip. We have your Iron Man. We want the chip back. We assume you want your man back. We suggest a trade. You have 24 hours to return out property to us,   
or Tony Stark dies. Instructions on delivery will be sent on a separate recording. Do not underestimate us.”

Before the recording ended, the big man leaned down to Tony, still huddled in on himself on the floor. The man ripped the blindfold from him, then threw it at him, it landed on his bruised chest then slipped onto the floor. Tony’s eyes stayed screwed shut as his face winced in pain.

“You can use that to clean your mess up,” he ordered cruelly, before the video faded to black.


	7. Chapter 7

Bruce entered the large lobby area of Stark Tower and headed towards the secure room where a lift would scan his prints and take him directly up to the private floors inhabited by Tony and his fellow Avengers. He was tired after spending another all-nighter in the lab and had gone out for a stroll in the fresh air for a coffee. With no leads on the hunt to find Tony, he had found his lab a welcome distraction, but it was catching up with him now.

“Mr Banner, Sir?” 

Bruce turned and smiled as one of the young men who worked on the doors ran over, a jiffy bag clutched under his arm. 

“Um, Sir, this was left at the main desk for you.”

Bruce took the parcel; it was addressed to The Avengers in capital letters, “Urgent” written sloppily underneath. “Who dropped this off?”

The young man shrugged. “Some lady left it a few hours ago? Asked me to make sure I got it to one of you.”

“Thanks Dan.”

Bruce reached the lift, and waited patiently as it began to ascend the many floors before he got out again. He headed first to his rooms, and tore open the parcel as soon as he was   
inside. It was an old fashioned VHS tape and nothing else – no note, no instructions, just the bulky cassette.

Intrigued, Bruce asked Jarvis to direct his team members, and Pepper to their working area. Receiving a tape like this was unusual, and something told Bruce that it could be connected to Tony’s disappearance. “Oh, and Jarvis, do we have anything that can play this?”

The smirk was clear in Jarvis’ response. “I believe we have some older equipment in storage that may suffice; Miss Potts can better direct you.”

“Thanks.”

*

When he made it to the conference room they had made their unofficial office he was pleased to see Clint and Natasha already there. Natasha was leafing through a pile of paperwork, frowning. Clint had his feet up on the table and was starring lazily up at the ceiling. Pepper came in minutes later, two unknown men with her, pushing an old style television and tape player on a stand with wheels into the room. Clint smiled. “This takes me back to school.”

When the equipment was in place, Pepper dismissed the two interns with a nod, and they quickly left the room.

Pepper addressed Bruce directly. “I take it there is a good reason Jarvis had me dig this relic out of storage on such short notice?”

Bruce nodded. “I think so. I hope so. This was left downstairs in the main public lobby.” He held up the black cassette. Clint sat up straighter; taking his feet from the table as he suddenly became interested.

“What is it?”

Bruce shrugged. “A tape, obviously. Other than that, I don’t know. It was addressed to “The Avengers.” It was dropped off a few hours ago with a bell boy. A young woman. Jarvis is checking security footage now." Bruce sighed. “Look, it may be nothing, it may be completely unrelated, but the timing of this, three days after Tony was taken, I think it’s from the people that are holding him.”

Pepper felt herself begin to shake.

“Play it,” Natasha commanded, no longer seated in her chair, she was at Bruce’s side, arms folded over her chest, staring intently at the tape.

Bruce looked uncomfortable. “Pepper,” he hesitated. “It may be better, if you don’t-“

“Play the tape, please.” She looked terrified, but her voice never faltered.

“This… this may not be pleasant viewing. And it may not even be about-“

“I want to see it.”

Bruce tried to compromise. “Can you let us watch it first? If it is about Tony, then we can play it again for you. If the imagery is… upsetting, we can warn you. Please, Pepper, let us watch it first. If it’s bad, well, Tony wouldn’t want you to see it.”

Finally Pepper nodded. “Okay,” she said. I’ll be right outside. Please, call me as soon as you have viewed it.”

Bruce nodded. “Thanks,” he said shakily, before guiding her out of the room.

As soon as the door closed behind her, Clint spoke up. “Where’s Cap?”

“SHIELD,” Natasha filled in. “He’s making his way back now.”

“Should we wait?”

“No,” Natasha jumped in, “We need to know what’s on the tape… we can’t wait.”

*

The three stood crowded around the screen, the room was silent as the video ended. Bruce turned away, hand over his mouth, breathing deeply and slowly, in and out.

Natasha looked concerned. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” Bruce grimaced. “No.” He paused. “Better than him.” He gestured to the screen as he spoke.

“This is good,” Clint said, cracking his knuckles. “We have a lead. They made contact. Now we can find them and bring him back.”

Natasha shook her head softly.

“What is it?” Clint asked.

“I don’t know. A chip? And we don’t know anything about it? It has to be SHIELD related. But Steve hasn’t said a word.”

“He’s been busy looking for Tony,” Bruce defended.

“Has he?” Clint cut in. “And why weren’t we informed, if he did this for SHIELD, when we’re SHIELD too?”

Bruce spoke again, his voice calm, not betraying his inner turmoil. “We need to speak to Steve. This could be a trick, to turn us against each other, we don’t know.” Natasha nodded and ejected the tape. She turned it over in her hands.

“Jarvis,” Bruce spoke up. “Can you keep trying to contact Steve, it’s urgent.”

“Yes sir.”

“And tell Miss Potts we’re ready for her,” Natasha added.

“Very well.”

“You can’t show her that!” Bruce cut in.

“She deserves to see it.” Clint reasoned. 

“No.” Natasha shook her head. “I’ll speak to her. She shouldn’t view the tape. The damage they’ve done, in such a short space of time – I – no – Tony wouldn’t want her to see it. I’ll   
deal with it.”

Clint sighed, rubbed a face over his hands. “What do we do now?”

Bruce shrugged. “We wait for Steve, I guess.”

*

Tony opened his eyes and closed them immediately at the throbbing in his head. He waited a beat then opened them again and a smirk slowly formed its way over his face as he realised the room was spinning. No, not the room, him. Or was it both? He licked his chapped lips then moved to scratch his face but his arms wouldn’t work. 

Oh, yeah, he thought lazily, the cuffs. He was cuffed to the chair. His head slowly lolled back down against his chest and he tried to raise it, but it felt heavy. He was in a chair, in the middle of the room he had first been taken to. When had that happened?

He lifted his head again but this time it listed to the side and he shifted slightly but wasn’t able to stop it. He tensed but it didn’t hurt. Was his leg fixed? He looked down, saw the swelling, the blood, the dark bruises and realised it wasn’t fixed. He remembered before, falling from the bed. He remembered crawling against the floor, through his own blood and vomit, trying to get away, it felt like a long time ago.

Had he pissed himself? He couldn’t remember. He felt wet though. He remembered, then, the hose they had used before they had dragged him back into here. The water hadn’t been cold, or even that strong a blast, but it had hurt, so much, as it touched his skin, it felt like fire. He remembered the water and the hands on him and then the chair, it had felt so comfortable, at first, to not be on the ground, but now it was hard beneath his body. His arms should ache, he realised, being restrained behind his back. He remembered the gunshot wound and sucked in a breath before laughing quietly. He’d been shot, how do you forget that? And he was supposed to be a genius. 

His head rocked from side to side as he tried to move. Was he sick, he wondered, was this why he didn’t feel anything, no pain, just a heavy weight? That didn’t make sense. None of this made sense. 

A jarring sound came from behind and Tony tensed, even in his confused state he knew that meant something was going to happen, something bad.   
One of the masked men entered the room and circled the chair to stand in front of him, it looked like the smaller one, the one he had tried to strangle before – it seemed like weeks ago, when he had tried to escape, how long had it been?

The man was holding something, water, Tony realised, a bottle of water. Suddenly he remembered how thirsty he was and he licked his lips. The man stood before him, grabbed his face with one hand, fingertips digging into his jaw. Tony tried to pull away, but his head was still too heavy.

The bottle was pushed against his lips and Tony stopped pulling way and tilted his head back to drink. The bottle was pushed into his mouth and he swallowed greedily for a moment of two before trying to pull away, having drank enough. The fingertips dug in harder and the bottle was tilted up higher, making the water pour out faster.  
He tried to swallow, tried to pull away, but it was too much and he was too weak. He couldn’t keep up and he started to panic and then cough and suddenly he was choking and gasping for breath and the bottle was gone and he’d already coughed half of it back up on himself in his panic. 

The man was crouching slightly before him, hands no longer holding his face, now grasping his hair instead. Tony was confused, the water, it hurt, and he was suddenly dizzy, everything was dimming and slowing even more and he realised, finally, drugs, he had been drugged. Was the water drugged with more? The man was pulling on his hair and his throat was hurting from the water and he looked up, panic in his eyes. 

The hand slapped his face again and Tony realised his guard was speaking to him.

“What do you say?” The man repeated impatiently, tugging on his hair again, forcing his neck to stretch out, which didn’t help his burning throat.   
He was confused. The spinning was picking up speed. Was the room getting darker, or was it him? What did he want? What was he supposed to do?

“What do you say,” the man snarled again, with another slap to the face. It hurt. 

Tony tried to shrink away. “I-“ he paused, “I’m not –“ He paused again to cough, his throat felt raw from the water assault. “Missiles?” He slurred, confused. The man let go of his hair and his head felt back down. Another slap to his face brought it back up.

“What do you say?”

Tony stared up through squinted eyes. “I won’t b-“

Another slap, over his swollen eye, Tony hissed, it stung despite the drugs. “You say thank you,” the man demanded, “Thank you.”

Tony was confused. “For what?” 

Another slap. Tony didn’t raise his head back up, he was tired, and the spinning made him feel sick. Had he built it already? Were they thanking him? But then why were they still hurting him? Was he still in Afghanistan, was this all a trick?

“Thank you for the water,” the man said, staring down at him expectantly.

Tony couldn’t look back up, he could feel the drugs – whatever they were – pulling him in, it felt like he was being wrapped up in a soft warm blanket. His eyes closed. He   
remembered the man. He was expected to say something.

“It’s kay….you’re…. welcome,” he muttered before fading away again, his head tilting to rest against his shoulder as he did so, breathing deep and evenly as he finally succumbed to the drugs. The little man threw the empty water bottle against the wall and stormed out, furious.

*

Natasha left to speak with Pepper came back 25 minutes late, carrying a tray with three coffees’ balanced on it. There was still no sign of Steve.

Clint smiled as he took the coffee, then seemed to remember the situation and the strain showed on his face. “How did she take it?”

“She’s… upset. We talked. I advised her not to view the footage, but ultimately it is her choice. I told her she could access it through Jarvis when she was ready. She said Rhodey should be here in the next few days. That seemed to make her feel a little better.”

“Good,” Bruce huffed as he sipped at his coffee.

“I have detected the presence of Mr Rogers in the tower. I shall remind him again that you are urgently expecting his arrival.”

“Thanks Jarvis,” they all replied together.

Steve entered the room ten minutes later. He closed the door behind him, looked at the three faces staring intently at him over the conference table.

“What is it?” He asked. He was in sweatpants and a sweat stained t-shirt and looked tired. “I went for a run, after I left SHIELD, and Jarvis said something had happened?” 

The three continued to stare. “I would have showered,” he continued, “but it sounded important. It is – is it Stark?”

The three broke their stares, looking at each other, and it seemed that the three silently agreed Natasha should take the lead.

“Any leads at SHIELD?”

Steve shook his head looking downcast. “No, nothing. You have something?”

“I was looking into Harley’s family but my lead fizzled out.”

“Oh.” 

“And the last minute stand in at the conference, looks genuine. Original key speaker cancelled due to the death of his mother. Long struggle with cancer. It all checks out.”

Steve was suddenly suspicious and he folded his arms across his chest as he approached their side of the table. “So you brought me here, stressing the urgent need to get back, to confirm that two non-leads really are just that?”

Natasha smiled. “What was on the chip?”

Steve paled. “What?”

“What, was, on, the, chip?” Each word sounded like a threat, the way it was strung out.

“I don’t – what do you-“ he paused, “have you been talking to Fury?”

Natasha shook her head. 

“I’m not sure I know what you mean,” Steve continued, backing himself into a corner.

“I know you brought a chip containing sensitive intel into the tower last week. I want to know what’s on it, who gave it you, why; and if Fury’s involved, why weren’t we?”

Steve shook his head. “It’s SHIELD, not Avengers stuff.”

“Clint and I are SHIELD, why weren’t we involved?”

Clint was tired of the talking and interrupted. “If it’s not Avengers stuff, why in the hell did you bring it into the tower?”

Steve felt his temper flaring, something that rarely happened. “How do you know about this? And anyway, it’s not important, we need to find Tony, that takes precedence.”

Bruce moved between the three of them before things escalated any further. “Steve,” he said, “There’s something you should see. Play the clip, Jarvis.”

“As you wish sir.”

The video lasted only a couple of minutes. As it played, Steve felt his legs weaken and he pulled out a chair to sit down. After the demand was made, and the video ended, he ran a hand warily through his hair.

“This makes no sense,” he said. “The chip – it’s nothing to do with-“

“What in the hell is on this chip?”

Steve sighed. “I don’t know, exactly. It’s data that was stolen from a cell that has some links to Hydra. The chip was taken from a cell member by an undercover operative working for SHIELD. Fury was concerned about the information on it, asked me to keep it safe. That’s it.”

“What was on the chip?”

Steve shook his head. “I don’t know. I didn’t review it. Fury asked me not to. It’s confidential.”

“Why weren’t we brought in?” Clint probed.

Steve signed, exasperated. “Maybe because he knew you’d take a look! I don’t know. This was a simple mission, save and secure the chip for Fury until a later date when he is in a better position to act on the data it contains.”

“And you really haven’t looked at it?”

“No! I actually follow orders.”

“Well,” Natasha cut in, “they know you have it. It must be serious intel, for them to track the chip after it was taken, and know who had it.”

Bruce started to pace. “Why take Tony if they know you have it?”

Clint slapped his palm against the table. “It’s obvious. If the chips in Tony’s tower, they’re going to think he’s involved in this.”

“Then they should expect all of the Avengers to be involved. Why take Tony, surely we’re all at risk?”

“No,” Natasha said quietly. “They took Tony, because they thought he’d be the one they could break. He’s the most human, the most-“

“Vulnerable.” Steve finished lamely. “Oh god, this is all my fault, I just thought – I thought it would be safe here. In the tower, with the Avengers. It’s like hiding in plain sight. And I’d always be near to it.”

“You couldn’t know what would happen. It sounds like Fury underestimated the value of the information.”

“Okay,” Steve said, trying to clear his head – they needed to a plan, a strategy. “What do we do now? Have they sent the exchange instructions?

“We can’t just swap him for the chip, can we? Shouldn’t Fury be consulted?” Natasha was surprised this question came from Clint.

“Can we copy the chip, or track it, or give them a dud? I don’t know-“

Bruce nodded his head, chewing on his lip. “Let me see this chip, I’ll see what I can do.”

Jarvis chose that moment to clear his throat. “I am sorry to interrupt but it appears a video recording has just been sent to Mr Rogers email, I believe it to be related to your discussion.”

“Get me the chip, I’m going to the lab,” Bruce ordered, “I’m not exactly useful when it comes to talking strategy.”

Steve nodded. “Okay,” he said, then looked straightened up as he addressed them. “I will fix this, I will. I’m sor-“

“It’s not your fault,” Bruce said, the exact same time Clint said “Tell that to Stark.” Natasha hit him on the arm. 

“We need to get to work.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	8. Chapter8

Bruce sat in the lab at Tony’s workstation, head resting on both fists as he stared down at the chip between his elbows on the work surface. He had no idea what to do. 

“Jarvis,” he said, unsure of himself. “I, um, I don’t know what to do.” A small laugh escaped despite himself. “I’m not very good with the tech, I don’t know why I said I’d take a look at this.”

“Would you like me to begin by doing a scan, sir?”

“Um, yeah, sure.” Bruce stared at one of the holographic screens which suddenly appeared before him as Jarvis got to work. He cleared his throat. “You heard our earlier conversation, about this, right?”

“I am aware of the value of the chip, in terms of getting Sir back.”

“Yeah.”

Jarvis continued to scan, numbers and symbols scanning down the page hovering mid-air just slightly off centre to his right. 

“Well, I don’t know what we should do. Can we copy the chip, keep a copy of the intel here? Then at least we know what information these people have? Do we wipe it clean, so they   
can’t access it, and risk Tony? Put a tracker on it? I don’t know.” He rubbed his eyes wearily.

“And you discussed this with your team mates, Dr Banner?”

Bruce hunched his shoulders. “Yes, but I’d like your opinion too. I…. I trust my team mates, of course, but they might be unconsciously biased to SHIELD.”

“Where as I am certainly biased to Sir?”

Bruce laughed again, shaking his head. “I don’t know what to do. But we need to get Tony back, at any cost.”

“That I can agree with. Scan complete.”

Bruce waited a beat before prompting. “And?”

“The data contained pertains to a SHIELD investigation into a group with ties to Hydra. Would you like to view the data?”

“No, no – that’s alright. Thanks.” Bruce ran another hand through his hair. “So – what can we do here Jarvis, what are my options, given the situation?”  
Bruce knew it was crazy, asking Jarvis for help, but then, maybe this was the right thing to do – Jarvis was the smartest person in this building. 

“I can clear the data, or copy it, as you enquired earlier.” Jarvis’ voice was as crisp as ever. “Another possible option is that we tamper with the data contained.”

“Change it?”

“Yes, I can amend aspects of the data, to make it look credible, but far less dangerous in terms of the real information contained.”

Bruce frowned. “That’s interesting but… no. No. We can’t. If they view this, before we get Tony back, and realise – it’s too risky.”

“Another option is that we put a trace on the chip, as did its previous owners.”

Bruce’s head shot up. “You can do that?”

“Yes. Having scanned the contents I can add an invisible trace which would allow me to track the location of the chip – by tracing the data. The only risk would be if they were to clear the data from it, but that wouldn’t really be a problem.”

“And what if they copied it elsewhere, then removed it?”

“I could still trace the data to the new location, as long as it remained unaltered.”

“Do it.” Bruce was certain this was the best option. If this organisation had been able to track the chip so well, there was no reason why they couldn’t do the same, especially with their resources, and Jarvis at hand. “Keep a back-up copy of the data here, though, just in case. Worst case scenario, we can at least be aware of the data they have access to. But put it on a secure server somewhere, so nobody can view it. I don’t even want you to view it fully, Jarvis, anybody who sees this information is at risk.”

The AI’s voice seemed warmer. “As you wish.”

“How long does it take to set up the trace?”

The voice, a notch warmer, now also held a hint of smugness. “It’s already complete.”

“Excellent,” Bruce praised, suddenly hopeful. He put the chip in his trouser pockets and made to leave the lab. “I don’t think this will happen, but If you are asked by anybody else, could you keep the alternate options to yourself?”

Jarvis responded, as reliable as ever. “Of course, Mr Banner – but if anybody does ask, I only answer to Sir.”

Bruce allowed himself to smile as he left the lab.

*

The team met back in the conference room. Bruce had the chip in hand, and was surprised to see his team members suited up, ready for action. 

“I took a look at the chip,” he started nervously, as the three faces stared at him expectantly. “Well, actually, Jarvis and I, we both had a look. Jarvis has uploaded the data from the chip to a secure server – he should then be able to use this data to track the location of the original data on the chip, when it’s online. This is our only real option,” Bruce lied, “but at least we are giving them back the chip, untouched, no tracker on it, as they have demanded.”

“Are you certain Jarvis can track the data using just a copy of it? That doesn’t sound concrete to me.” Steve was sceptical.

Before Bruce could answer, Jarvis spoke up. “I assure you Captain; I can use the data to track the data. So long as it is online, or live – being used. The only instances in which I cannot provide a trace are if the chip is inactive, or destroyed. Even so, there is no way to tamper directly with the chip, and so this is your only option.”

Bruce smiled slightly. 

“I still think we should consult Fury.”

“No. We need to move, now.”

“What did the second message say?”

“They sent co-ordinates to a meeting point where I am to meet them, alone, and give them the chip.” Steve explained. “The location is about an hours drive from where Tony was taken.”

“So, um,” Bruce rubbed his hands together sheepishly. “What is the plan?”

Steve sighed. “Just that, I’m going to meet them, give them the chip, and pray they tell me where Tony is. Natasha’s going to be in the local area in case I need a hand, but not too close. Clint can wait here with the Quinjet, ready to get Tony as soon as we get a location.”

“And me?”

“We’re hoping you can stay with Clint. You can treat Tony as soon as he is recovered, and well, if it really is an emergency, you might be able to move faster than the jet.”

Bruce nodded. “Alright.”

*

"Tash what's happening?" It was getting dark, Natasha struggled to see. “Steve's still waiting,” she informed. She could still make out the blue of his uniform, despite the distance. “Nothing's happened yet.”

“Okay.” Clint sounded restless, she couldn't blame him. They were putting all their eggs in one basket - they were giving up the chip with no guarantee they would get Stark back.

Thirty minutes later and something was happening, Natasha could hear a faint whine in the distance, slowly getting louder. She could see that Steve heard it too, his posture straightened with tension.

“Something's happening,” she informed Clint, “Someone’s coming.” She continued to watch through her mini binoculars, as three men on motorbikes approached Rogers. 

“Three targets, armed, masked, no licence plates. Central target approaching Steve. Jarvis were you getting this?” She hissed.

“Yes Miss Romanov, the data is recording onto my server without failure.” 

“Good.”

Natasha watched as the two men spoke, worry etched on her face as she wished she could hear the conversation. 

“Now what’s happening?” Bruce asked.

“They’re talking. Wait, Steve's nodding his head. Reaching into his pocket... Target has the chip.” Natasha spoke slowly and clearly as she watched the events unfold before her. “Target has connected the chip to some kind of device, they're either scanning it or checking that it’s legit. Target is getting into the vehicle... All three targets are leaving.” She watched as Steve turned and started to run in her direction. 

Both Clint and Bruce's voices were clamouring in her ear. “Hold on,” she ordered, before moving towards Steve who was almost there and out of breath. 

“Here,” he said, thrusting a crumpled piece of paper at her. “They said these are the co-ordinates to a warehouse where Tony's being held.” He looked at his watch and swallowed hard as Natasha relayed the coordinates to Clint. “They said it’s rigged to blow in thirty minutes.” Natasha again relayed the information to Clint, urgency in her voice.

“Were on it,” Clint replied, “Jarvis thinks we can get there in time, but it will be a close call, and we still have to find Tony once were inside.”

“Just keep us updated,” Natasha ordered as she and Steve headed the mile or so to the car they had arrived in. As they walked Steve spoke. “Do you think they will make it in time?”

Natasha was confident. "I do.”

“We don't even know if they have given us the right location.”

It was unnerving seeing him so negative. “Well it’s the only lead we have, so we have to assume it’s real.”

As they reached the car Steve put his earpiece back in. “Clint - status update?”

“ETA ten minutes.”

Natasha drove fast, heading back towards the tower, they had agreed that they would go straight back so they could be ready for their return. The tower had a medical floor but Bruce wasn't confident it was enough, but they all agreed they didn't want to take Tony to SHIELD, they were going to keep this under their radar for now.

The plan was to take him back the tower initially, but move him if his injuries were as bad as feared. Pepper had a room and a team of experts ready at a nearby private hospital Tony had used previously. They understood the need for secrecy and security and Pepper trusted them. But they needed him back first. 

Natasha put her foot down driving as fast as she dared. Clint's voice cut into her ear. “We've landed, entering target location now.”

Steve spoke up, his voice quiet but strong. “Good luck.”

*

Clint left Bruce in the jet. Bruce was keeping an eye on his watch - they had eleven minutes before the large warehouse would blow, if the threat was to be believed. In the hopes of avoiding a Hulk out, Bruce would only transform if it got to five minutes with no sign of Tony. It would be better if Bruce were himself, and ready to treat Tony as soon as he was found, but they couldn't risk the fact that the place may be rigged to blow, and an appearance from the Hulk may be necessary. Bruce hoped he didn't need to transform, he was worried about his friend and the state he may be in when he was found. On the video it hadn't looked good. 

Clint entered the dark warehouse, gun out and ready to shoot, his bow strapped across his back, and scoped out the dimly lit room. The warehouse was almost empty, cold concrete; spider webs, and a lot of dust. At the far end there looked to be a door, so Clint headed that way, ears and eyes cocked for any sound that an enemy, or trap, was nearby. He made his way down to the door quickly, took a breath, braced himself and kicked the door. It flung back on its hinges with no resistance.

Clint carefully entered the room and was relieved to see it empty, at least there were no hostiles. It looked like some kind of common room, there were two Iarge sofas, a fridge and a worn looking table. A monitor and computer were in the corner, turned off. Clint was tempted to take a look, to gather evidence, but he had to find Tony first. Next to the old looking computer terminal was another door. Going through the same procedure Clint kicked it open, dropped and rolled, gun ready to fire. Another deserted room. This one was long and thin, again cold and had large cobwebs in the corners, with a further three rooms leading off it, doors closed, and one large viewing window staring directly into the first of these rooms. Clint ran over to the window, next to the first door which would lead him inside. He looked through the window and felt his stomach clench despite the fact that the room was empty. Tony wasn’t there, but he had been. It looked like a holding room, nothing in it except for a couple of blood stains, one on the floor, as though somebody had laid there, wounded; and another, faint patch, smeared against the lower region of the wall in the left hand corner of the room, the one furthest from the door. Somebody had been huddled in the corner, hurt and bleeding - Clint had no doubt that the blood belonged to Tony.

Bruce's voice spoke gently into his ear for the first time since he entered the building. “You’ve got eight minutes.”

“Copy.”

Clint was grateful for the radio silence as he continued on to the second door, with no window this time; he used the same manoeuvre to safely enter the room. Again, it was empty, but Tony had been here. Clint stomach clenched again as he looked over the small room, rigged to look like a hospital room, blood marred the white sheets on the bed, and more blood clung to the rail that ran the length of the bed, the rail Tony’s wrist had been cuffed to. The ransom video had been shot here. Clint backed out, certain now that Tony would be found in the last room. If he wasn’t there… Clint didn’t want to think about that.


	9. Chapter 9

Clint hurried into the last room as Bruce all but whispered “six minutes” into his ear. He ignored his teammate as he rushed over to the occupied metal chair in the centre of the room. It was bolted to the floor and Tony was seated in it looking very “unwell” to put it mildly.

“Tony? Hey! Tony!” Clint called out as he rounded the chair to face his friend. Clint immediately reeled back as he caught a glimpse of his team mate from the front. “Shit,” he muttered as he dropped to his knees before him.

Tony was cuffed to the chair, each bruised wrist tied to the metal arms with steel handcuffs. His body listed slightly to the side, his head resting on his shoulder. He was clad in a pair of what looked like boxer shorts and his entire body was covered with dirt or dried blood, his face a mess of black and bruised and swollen skin; blood caked into his hair.

“Shit…” he mumbled again as he caught sight of the man’s leg, splayed out on the floor swollen hideously, with bloody scabs and clear signs of infection leaking through several of the many abrasions. It was clearly broken, and looked badly damaged from the calf down. Would he lose it? He shook the thought from his head, the sooner he got him out of here, the sooner he could get help. 

Clint cradled Tony's head slightly, intending to try and rouse him, but he suddenly thought better of it as he took in his colleague’s condition - he was still in shock at how bad it was, to say he had only been missing days, they had used a lot of force, causing months’ worth of damage. Maybe it would be kinder to let him rest, hopefully oblivious to the pain. 

When Clint released Tony’s head it dropped back down against his shoulder like a dead weight. He took in the way his chest was breathing in quick shallow breaths and wondered if they had drugged him. It was definitely a good thing, he decided, as his eyes locked on the filthy bandage covering his shoulder, the only form of cover other than the boxer shorts. The bandages were well wrapped but blood had come through, and they were marked with dirt in places, probably when Tony had been laid against the stone floor.

Clint uttered one last curse before gathering his thoughts and focusing.

“I have him,” he informed Bruce. “He needs urgent medical treatment. He's cuffed to a chair that's bolted to the floor. Each cuff also has a pack of C4 attached to it. I can disarm it, but it’s tricky, might take a few minutes.”

“Well you have just under five.”

“We don't know if the buildings rigged elsewhere. I might need a hand getting him out of the blast zone once he’s free. Stand by.” Clint continued as he worked on the left wrist. “I'll let you know when he’s free, then you come in and help us haul our asses out of here.”

Bruce nodded, now hovering outside the warehouse, eyes still on his watch.

“Four minutes. Do you have enough time?”

It took thirty seconds for Clint to answer. “Left arm free,” he huffed as he hurried onto the right side. “If I run out of time I'll chop this one off.” Bruce didn't laugh.

“Two minutes thirty left.”

“I’m getting there.”

“If you need Hulk to free him you need to tell me now.”

“I don't want him near live explosives. Give me another minute!” Clint snapped.

“That's all you have,” Bruce snapped back, sounding equally agitated.

“One minute thirty left,” Bruce hissed, tension and pressure and stress eating him up - the transformation wouldn't be difficult.

“Got it!” Clint yelled as the last cuff broke free. Tony's arm splayed free then hung loosely off the arm of the chair. He was still unconscious. Clint considered picking Tony up, wondering how best to carry him, when an almighty roar deafened him and the Hulk crashed through the door, concrete and dust flying everywhere. He stopped for a split second, then reached out and gently lifted Tony from the chair, holding him around the waist against his chest. Before Clint could react, the Hulk’s free arm snatched him up, and he was suddenly being held in the air as the Hulk started to move, running. It was not comfortable, and Clint wanted to close his eyes, but he watched instead mesmerised as the warehouse lit up behind then, flames licking at the structure, chasing them, always just yards out of reach.

The Hulk didn't stop at the Quinjet, he carried right on past it, he was intent on taking them back to the tower. Clint closed his eyes now, the jarring motion of being in the Hulk's fist as he ran was like being on the wildest roller coaster ever. Each of the Hulks giant footsteps sent shockwaves through his body as the animal’s feet pounded the ground. Clint was grateful Tony was out of it, were he conscious, this wouldn't be pleasant.

*

Hulk made it back to the tower in record time, but to Clint it felt like forever. Once in the secure Avengers underground entrance he roughly dropped Clint to the floor. He fell to his knees and tried not to be sick, the ride had lasted far too long for his liking. He scrambled back to his feet and looked up, the Hulk was just watching him, Tony still held protectively against his chest. He wiped the back of his mouth against his sleeve. Hulk seemed to take this as a sign that he was okay. He suddenly held Tony out and dropped him into Clint’s arms bridal style. Clint headed to the elevator, turned around when he realised the mass of green wasn't following him, the lift was built for the Hulk, and he had used it before.

“You not coming?” Clint asked. 

He tried not to flinch as Hulk roared back at him. “Hulk angry.” He smashed his fist into the cement floor to prove his point.

“He needs help,” Clint gesture to the man in his arms, worried by how hot he felt against his uniform. 

“Too hurt,” he roared before turning and running away.

Clint hurried into the elevator, made to speak into his com unit and realised it was missing; it must have jostled free during his ride from the Hulk.

“Jarvis,” he tried, “can you update the others? I have Tony, I'm coming up, heading straight to the medical bay, have them meet me there. I think we’re going to have to move him straight to the place Pepper organised, but the guys upstairs can check.”

“The Captain and Miss Romonav are heading to the bay now. I've scanned Sir and your assessment is correct, but the medical team here can stabilise Sir before he is moved.”

Clint gulped, it really was bad. 

The lift finally stopped, doors opened and Clint ran out, pleased to see that the group of doctors and nurses who had been briefed earlier were already waiting, white coats on, a gurney between them. Clint gently laid Tony against it. He waited to brief them, to alert them to the most serious injury, but he just didn’t know where to start. It didn’t appear to be a problem; he was wheeled away instantly as the five medics threw orders and observations at each other as they moved him. He wondered if Jarvis had already updated them. Before they rounded the corner a young woman turned and shouted over her shoulder to him “Jarvis will let you know when he’s ready to be transferred.”

Clint didn’t reply, just stood where he was, starring after them vacantly. 

That’s how Steve and Natasha found him, four minutes later as they rushed into the lobby, startling him. 

“Clint, where is he?”

Clint clenched his fist to help focus himself. “They took him,” he said, nodding his head down the corridor. “The medics.” 

“What’s his condition?”

Clint sighed, rubbed a hand over his face. “It’s not good. He looked like hell, they did a number on him. And his leg… Christ.” He ran another hand through his hair. “Jarvis is monitoring him, the team here are stabilising him; as soon as they can, they’re sending him straight over to Peppers place.”

“Good.”

“Does Pepper know were back?” Clint asked.

Steve swallowed. “Not yet. I wanted an update before breaking the news. I’ll let her know, when he’s been moved; we’ll have more information them. I’ll drive her over.”

Jarvis spoke up again. “Mr Hogan is already on site with Miss Potts, waiting for the arrival of Sir. I will be updating her as soon as they leave.”

“Thanks.” Steve was relieved. He could speak to her when they got there, when they knew what Tony’s prognosis was.

“Where's Banner?” Natasha asked. 

Clint laughed slightly. “He's gone AWOL. Said he was too angry to transform back, took off running after getting us here.”

Steve nodded. “How did Tony look?” He asked, tentatively, his face already riddled with guilt. 

Clint swallowed heavily. “Not good. It was a close call. I found him strapped to a chair with a load of C4 attached to each wrist. If the Hulk hadn't run us out of there, we’d both be dead. He was out of it though, it looked like he’d been drugged. He didn’t regain consciousness, which was a blessing, really.”

Steve clasped Clint’s shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Thanks Clint,” he almost whispered, “good job.”


	10. Chapter 10

It was over an hour before the medical team were ready to move Tony. They wheeled him past the area where the team were waiting; Steve stood up and looked down on his friend as they passed. He didn't look good, laid on the gurney, a neck brace on, Steve wasn’t sure why; plus an oxygen mask strapped to his face, the remaining visible skin black and blue and green and yellow, an eye swollen shut on itself, the rainbow of bruising only broken by cuts and scrapes and blood. A sheet covered his body, a drip line led under the sheet towards his arm, and some kind of protective casing covered his leg and foot. Steve held his breath as they passed.

“How is he?” Clint called as the medics rushed into the private elevator, ignoring the presence of the team. They didn’t answer. It was clear they were in a rush.

“Well,” Clint sighed, “I guess that means were not allowed to ride with him in the ambulance.”

“Chopper,” Natasha corrected, “they’ll be taking him by chopper.”

Steve sat back down shakily. “He just looks so... Bad.”

Jarvis spoke up. “Sir has suffered multiple serious injuries, Captain, but at present his life isn't in immediate danger, his vital signs have stabilised.”

“Thanks. They're taking him to the private hospital Pepper spoke about?” Steve asked, to clarify.

“Yes. Sir will be taken into surgery immediately, first to remove the bullet wound in his shoulder, then to attempt to rebuild the shattered bones in the calf, ankle and foot.”

“Jesus”, Clint muttered. “That's gonna cost a fortune,” he added, trying to lighten the mood.

“Has Pepper been notified that they’re on their way?”

Jarvis sounded slightly annoyed. “Of course. She is already on her way and will arrive approximately five minutes before Sir.”

“Come on,” Natasha said, “Let’s go, we need to be there.”

Steve sighed, “I should probably fill Fury in, he doesn’t know that we recovered Stark, and he needs to know that the intel is compromised.”

Natasha glared, fire in her eyes. “I think Fury can wait.”

“Yeah,” Steve admitted, swallowing heavily, ”I’ll call him from the hospital.”

*

They arrived at the private hospital over twenty minutes later. After passing through some security checks, including one from an overly twitchy young man who asked for Steve to vouch for the others, which amused Clint and infuriated Natasha, they headed inside.

Once inside Clint was surprised to see the facility was just a standard hospital, well, a lot smaller than a regular hospital, and a hell of a lot nicer. “Jeez,” he whispered to Natasha as Steve headed over to the reception area, “Next time I’m in the SHIELD Med Bay, I want to go here. You think Stark could foot the bill?”

“It’s the only way you could get treatment here; you sure as hell can’t afford it.”

"Yeah," he agreed, "I'm sure I could sweet talk him."

Steve approached the young woman manning the reception desk.

“Hi, were friends of Tony Stark,” he said sheepishly, suddenly feeling self-conscious in his uniform.

The young woman smiled and made a show of looking him up and down. “Of course you are,” she replied.

Natasha snorted.

“Can you tell me where I can find him?”

“Of course, Captain,” she smiled. “Take a left down the corridor, second room on the right has been cleared to be used as a waiting area.”

“Thanks.”

As the three made to head towards the corridor, the lady called out to him, rushing over. “Captain, you uh, dropped this,” she said, holding out a crumpled piece of paper.

“Oh,” he said, taking it. “Thanks.”

They headed off down the corridor, Steve opening up the note as he moved.

“It’s just a number,” he said, confused, “Does it belong to either if you?”

“Nope,” Clint smirked, “I'm pretty sure it belongs to you. But I’ll take it, if you don’t want it.”

“I didn't drop this,” Steve said, still confused.

“No you didn't,” Clint said, still smirking.

“Huh?”

Natasha took pity on him. “It’s the lady's number, oldest trick in the book.”

“Oh,” Steve blushed, then folded it up and put it in his pocket.” Maybe I'll keep hold of it,” he said, and Clint bursting out laughing, before remembering why they were here and quietening down again. 

They found the room, and Pepper in it, alone, red eyed, clearly upset and not expecting to be interrupted.

“What’s wrong? Is it Tony, is he…” Steve tailored off as Pepper rubbed at her eyes whilst shaking her head furiously.

“Everything’s fine,” she muttered, taking a deep breath, then letting it out. “Well, as fine as it can be.” She paused to rub at her nose before composing herself. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t expecting anybody, or I wouldn’t have been sat here-“

“It’s okay,” Natasha said, coming forward and rubbing a hand on Peppers arm. “What’s his status now? Have they taken him in yet?”

Pepper shook her head then sat back down. Steve and Natasha took a seat on either side of her, Clint hovered in the doorway. 

“Tony’s still out, from whatever the people holding him gave him. The team have prepared him for surgery, as soon as the anaesthetist gets in, they’re going to put him under properly and begin.”

Clint perked up. “So you’re waiting for some guy to turn up? Where the hell is he?”

Pepper shook her head again. “He’s on his way – he was on leave.”

“And they only have one anaesthetist, in a place like this? Christ-“

“No,” Pepper cut in, looking embarrassed. “They have a man ready to fill in. But I refused. I’d rather wait for Dr Adams. He’s the man who worked with the team when Tony had the shrapnel removed. He’s one of this best in this field, and I want him. Even more so knowing Tony already has drugs in his system, I’m not taking any risks.”

Clink just shrugged, wondering why it mattered. Steve spoke up, “How long will this Adams person be? Wouldn’t it be better to start right away? Those wounds need treating fast. His leg… it didn’t look good.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Pepper snapped, standing back up and beginning to pace the room. “I’m aware of the risks, but I have made the decision to wait.”

Steve sighed. “Why is this such a big deal for you?” Natasha tried to get Steve’s attention but he was focused on Pepper. “Surely anyone qualified can do the job? Is it status, I know fancy places like this-“

“Of course not!” Pepper said, eyes filling up again. “I just want Dr Adams. Tony and I trust him. He will do his job properly and I don’t have to worry-“ Pepper broke off as a young woman popped her head around the room, ignoring the rooms other occupants as she did so. “Miss Potts, Dr Adams has just arrived. He’s scrubbing up as we speak; the surgery is expected to begin in the next quarter of an hour.”

Relief coursed through Pepper, she almost sagged against the wall. “Thank you,” she said.

“The viewing room is ready; do you want me to escort you over?”

Pepper nodded. “That would be great.” She turned to face the others. “I’ll update you when I can.”

“We’d like to accompany you, if we can,” Steve asked.

Pepper shook her head. “I’d rather be alone, and Tony wouldn’t appreciate anyone seeing him like this. But I’ll call you when I have news.”

“Well,” Steve said, trying to hide his disappointment, “no need to call, we’ll wait here. Just let us know how he’s doing, when you can.”

Just about to leave, Pepper suddenly stopped and spun round to face them. “Where’s Bruce? Is he okay, did he get hurt?”

Clint smirked. “Bruce is fine. Hulk wanted to run off some steam after we got back to the tower.”

Pepper nodded and then left the room without saying anything more. After she left Clint pulled the door shut and sat down on one of the couches, resting his head back and spreading his arms out. “What the hell was all that about?” he asked.

Steve shrugged. “It’s probably the stress.”

“Yeah, but wanting to wait for a specific person to help out? I didn’t think Pepper was that picky; it’s something I’d expect from Stark, not her.”

Natasha had been trying to hold her tongue but she knew she needed to speak up. “She’s just trying to make the best decisions for him. It can’t be easy. She’ll calm down now he’s receiving treatment.”

“I don’t know,” Clint smirked, “it’s not like she’s deciding if she should turn off life support or donate some organs. Now that’s a difficult decision.”

“Look,” Natasha said, feeling unusually defensive. “Stark has undergone extreme medical procedures before, whilst conscious. He obviously has some kind of fear about it, if they hired the best anaesthetist to treat him when he had the heart surgery. It makes sense that Pepper wants to stick with him. They want to make sure he’s out for all of it.”

Clint and Steve both stared at her. “What do you mean, extreme medical procedures?”

Natasha shook her head. “Look, I’m not going into detail, Stark doesn’t even know I know. I found out a lot of information that’s not in his official file when I was undercover at SI. He was awake and fully conscious when they first put that thing in his chest.”

“Why didn’t we know about this?” Steve asked.

“Come on,” Natasha snapped, “Tony’s private, he isn’t going to broadcast this. And I only pieced together the basics - I’ve no idea what they did, or how, but it was when he was missing, and it sure as hell can’t have been pleasant. I know Pepper spent two days interviewing potential anaesthetists before he had it taken out last year, so I’m guessing he’s scared of repeating the experience. Pepper’s just trying to do the best for him.”

“But Stark won’t know who knocked him out!” Clint argued.

“He would if he woke up during one of the surgeries.”

Clint shut up, Steve rubbed a hand over his face, Natasha folded her arms over her chest. The conversation was over; now they just had to wait.


	11. Chapter 11

Almost two hours later Dr Ruttenberg spoke into the intercom connected to the viewing room Pepper was occupying. She had watched wearily as the team worked on Tony, just watching them stand over him; not knowing what was happening was frustrating. The plan had been to remove the bullet, then work on his leg, but it was clear to Pepper they were winding down before Dr Ruttenberg’s (who had also orchestrated Tony’s heart surgery) voice filtered into the room.

“We’re calling it a day for now, Pepper,” he said. “Let me clean up and I’ll be right over to let you know what’s going on. But it’s nothing to worry about.”

“Thanks,” Pepper said, arms hugging herself tightly as she sat back down. She didn’t like it in the viewing room. Despite the name, and the large window, you still couldn’t see much, and what you could see, you couldn’t understand. But Tony had wanted her close by, last time, so she had agreed to wait and watch throughout his heart surgery. He had been worried about waking up during the surgery, panicked over it, which was understandable given his history. So they agreed she would stay put in the room, so if the worst did happen, he would see her watching over him. Last time Rhodey had been with her and his presence had made it so much easier; now she just felt alone. Maybe she should have let the team join her – whilst Tony wouldn’t want them to see him like this, it would have made it a lot easier on her.

One of the medics moved away and Pepper caught a glimpse of Tony’s head, his face; bruised and swollen as it was, it was still clearly him, and she felt better for seeing him, despite how terrible he looked. She smiled slightly, he’s still here, she thought to herself, he’s not leaving me just yet.

Dr Ruttenberg ambled into the room later, wearing fresh scrubs and balancing two coffees and a clipboard in his hands.

“Pepper,” he greeted as he sat down beside her, “I’m sorry to keep you waiting.” He handed her a coffee and took a sip of his own. “How are you doing?”

Pepper smiled slightly. “You know,” she paused. “The best I can. How is he doing?”

Ruttenberg nodded and got down to business. “He’s stable, his vitals are strong. I wanted to move straight on to the damage sustained to his leg, but it’s difficult... The shoulder wound took a lot longer than I expected.” He held a hand out to calm her. “The bullet was embedded deep within the muscle. The tissue around it had started to heal over it, so getting it out was delicate work. Given it took so long, I’d rather rest him tonight and take him down again tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Pepper nodded. “How is his shoulder? Will there be permanent damage?” He might get away with a limp in his leg, but Pepper knew it would be impossible to wear the armour with a non-functioning shoulder, and she didn’t want to think about the damage that would do to him, psychologically. 

“The limb will need to be fully rested as it heals, and of course physiotherapy will be required; it may take a while but I don’t envision anything preventing him from recovering fully from the wound to his shoulder.”

Pepper let out a sigh of relief, but Ruttenberg quickly continued. “His leg, however, has suffered extensive damage. I’ve asked an old friend with experience of dealing with bone damage this severe to join us tomorrow, his input will be useful. I don’t anticipate having to amputate-“ Pepper gasped, the idea having never entered her head. “I really don’t think we will have to amputate,” he repeated, “But it is a possibility. Right now, I’m not sure how fully the damage can be repaired. Until we get in there, it’s difficult to say. Which is why I want to let his body rest tonight, so tomorrow we can go in and work on it for as long as it takes; and repair the damage as best as possible.”

Pepper felt her eyes well up but she pushed the tears back. “And tonight-“ She stammered, “will he be c-c-conscious?”

Ruttenberg gave her shoulder a gentle pat. “No. I want to keep him under. I’ll have a nurse in with him at all times to keep watch, and he’ll be on a drip keeping him on a safe mixture of morphine and sedatives. I don’t envision him waking up. I certainly don’t see any benefit in bringing him out to put him back down again in the morning.”

Pepper nodded, “I agree,” she said. “I would rather he not be aware of what’s happening, until he’s started the recovery stage.”

“In that case,” Ruttenberg said, standing up and preparing to leave, “may I suggest you go home and get some rest tonight? Tomorrow’s going to be a long day.”

Pepper smiled. “Pete,” she said, they had spent so much time together with Tony planning the heart surgery that they were both comfortable enough to use first names. “You can suggest whatever you want, and I hope you don’t mind, but I’m not leaving him, not now. I’ll be staying with him tonight. I assume you can have a cot brought in?”

Ruttenberg smiled with defeat, knowing he wouldn’t get her to change her mind. “Of course.”

*  
Natasha’s phone beeped, making her startle as she freed it from her pocket. 

“Shouldn’t that be turned off in the hospital?” Clint asked.

“It’s not 1990 anymore Clint, if you can use them on planes, you can use them in here. You’re beginning to make Cap look up to date.”

“Hey,” Steve laughed, “I’m getting better.”

“Sure,” Clint teased, “of course you are.”

Natasha glanced down at her screen. “It’s Pepper. Stark’s out of surgery-“

“So soon?” Steve cut in, sounding surprised. 

Natasha glared at him. “I wasn’t finished, don’t interrupt me. They’ve taken him down to a recovery unit for the night, they’re going to work on his leg tomorrow. Tonight they want him to rest. She’s staying with him tonight, so we should go home.”

Steve shrugged. “Well I’m staying.”

Clint shrugged. “Why? Stark’s asleep, resting. Pepper’s with him. I say we go back to the tower, find Bruce, rest up and tomorrow we can take Pepper off duty.”

“I don’t think she will let us do that.”

“Tasha,” Clint asked, ignoring Steve’s negative comment. “Tell her thanks for the update, tell her we’re going home to find Bruce and fill out a mission report, and to give her some time with Tony. But we’ll be over first thing tomorrow. And to let us know if anything changes.”

Natasha nodded and began to type.

“I think one of us needs to be here, at least?” Steve tried.

“To do what?” Clint challenged. “Tony is safe, he’s resting. Pepper doesn’t want us around right now. We’re all exhausted after four days of searching for him and worrying about what the hell was going off. I think we can take the night to regroup and recharge.”

Natasha nodded. “I agree. And we need to check on Bruce, if he’s… back.”

Steve looked torn. 

“Anyway,” Clint added, “don’t you need to fill Fury in? He doesn’t know we have Stark back, and he sure as hell doesn’t know that the chip he gave you for safe keeping has been compromised.”

Steve looked guilty again. “You’re right, I need to speak to him. You guys head back, I’ll go directly to SHIELD. I’ll get an update from Jarvis on the way, see if he’s managed to trace any data remotely like that he copied from the chip.”

“You think Jarvis can do that?” Clint asked as they walked down the corridors.

“He’s copied the data, so if somebody uploads anything similar, he might be able to spot it.”

“Sounds like a long shot to me.”

Steve shrugged. “If anybody can do it, it’s Jarvis. If not, well… I don’t know what happens then.”


	12. Chapter 12

The next 48 hours passed in a blur, although Pepper would swear each minute felt like a lifetime. She watched as the surgery had taken place, Natasha by her side for the entire eight hours. Natasha had presented a strong argument on why Pepper shouldn’t be alone, and Pepper had to admit she was grateful for the company. After eight hours the team had broken off for a break, and started again over an hour later, for another three hours of work. The wait felt like an eternity, Pepper honestly felt exhausted when it ended. 

Afterwards, Dr Ruttenberg had come to see her to give her a status update. 

“I presume we are alright to discuss Tony’s treatment here?”

Natasha glared at the man. Pepper nodded, “Of course, Natasha is fully informed of the situation.”

Natasha and Pepper listened as Dr Ruttenberg outlined the treatment his team had performed. They had tried their best to deal with the multiple broken or fractured bones in both the lower leg, ankle and foot. The team had attached two metal plates into the lower leg, and a fixator had been put in place, to stabilise the bones, and hold everything in place as it healed. A number of pins were also embedded into the bones, giving them support. The fixator would be on for a number of months, and they would have to go back in to check how the damage was healing after a few weeks. More surgery, Pepper couldn’t help but sigh. 

“I am confident that the injury will heal, but it’s going to be a long process; and unfortunately due to the severity of the wounds, I can’t give you a fixed timeline so soon into the treatment.”

“How long will the fixator be on?” It was obvious even to Pepper that Tony would be out of the suit for a while.

“It’s difficult to say. Optimistically three to six months. We’re going to have to go back in to check how things are healing, and I think a second surgery on the ankle socket likely, after the fixator is removed. But honestly, it’s hard to tell with these things, some people take a lot longer than expected, and some heal faster. It’s a suck it and see.”

“And after that?” Pepper asked, looking worried.

Dr Ruttenberg scratched his neck. “Well, I think you know it’s going to be a long road to recovery. Extensive physiotherapy will be required. There could be nerve damage to the tissue, but again, and I’m sorry to keep saying this, it’s just too early to tell. But I am hopeful that this will prevent the need to amputate.”

“Thank God.”

“But in the meantime, it’s going to be hard. Given the shoulder wound, and the general hits and knocks he’s taken elsewhere, and I don’t want to belittle the severity of those wounds by stating it like that… well, he’s going to need bed rest for a number of weeks. And I need to keep a close eye on his leg. The skin around the breaks was cut and grazed and a couple of sites were showing signs of infection. It’s going to need wrapping and cleaning daily, which will be much harder with the fixator, and it’s going to hurt. But it’s got to be done. As soon as the immediate healing has begun on the lesser injuries, we’re going to have to get him as mobile as possible, even with the fixator on; it’s the quickest way to heal.”

Natasha couldn’t help but wince.

“It’s going to take time, and…” he paused, trying to find the right words, “It’s going to hurt. It will be difficult, and he will need to be patient, but hopefully, I am optimistic he will make a full recovery.”

Pepper nodded sadly. “This is going to knock his confidence, after the recovery time from the heart surgery…” She turned to Natasha. “You saw how much he struggled with that.”

Natasha shrugged. “He struggled, silently, of course; but he recovered. He’s just going to have to do the same again.”

“I don’t know if he can,” Pepper frowned.

Natasha smiled. “I know he can.”

Pepper turned back to Dr Ruttenberg. “What happens now? Can I see him?”

“I’d give it a little time. He’s being transferred to a more permanent recovery room. We’re going to wean him off of the sedatives over the next day or so, we don’t want to startle him back into consciousness. As the sedatives are lessened, we’ll up the morphine, at least for the beginning. I don’t want this hitting him all at once.“ He paused. “When he does come around, he’ll be dazed, confused, and not altogether himself. Obviously he will be heavily drugged, so don’t expect too much of him.”

“So when can we expect him to wake up?”

“Probably in the next 12 to 24 hours, but most likely the latter.”

“Pepper,” Natasha said, deciding to take control. “You need to go home now. Rest, eat, have a shower. At least for the evening. There’s no point staying any longer, he’s going to be out of it all night.”

Dr Ruttenberg agreed. 

“I can’t leave him.”

“Clint’s on his way over, he already set off. He agreed to cover watch tonight so we can both get some rest.”

“Tony needs me.”

“No, not now he doesn’t. He needs you when he wakes up, scared and confused and hurting. Now, he doesn’t need anybody, he’s still out of it. You waste all night sitting by his side then you’re of no use when he does wake up. Think about it?”

Pepper crossed her arms across her chest angrily but eventually nodded her head. “You’re right.”

“Good.”

“But I want to see him before I go. And if his condition alters at all tonight, I want to be notified immediately.”

“Of course. But Pepper,” Ruttenberg warned, “prepare yourself. The fixator looks, unpleasant.”

Pepper just nodded. She held her breath when she entered the room, the metal contraption surrounding his leg really did look awful. She looked at it and immediately looked away, feeling slightly nauseous. The skin was covered in bandages beneath, and dried blood surrounded the areas where the metal prongs pierced the skin to hold the bone in place.

She moved up to the top of the bed, kissed his head, tried not to shudder as her eyes roamed back down to his leg. She looked back up at his face, the bruised and broken skin, only just starting the healing stage. She kissed his head again, trying not to cry. “I’ll see you soon,” she whispered, before slowly backing out of the room, holding back tears.

*

Pepper was back at his bedside early the next morning. She relieved Clint of his duty then sat back and waited. After an hour or two she could tell Tony was beginning to rouse himself from his slumber. She began to call his name softly, again and again, with her hand gently stroking the skin on his arm. It felt nice. As he came too, it took a few moments for him to reach consciousness, but he couldn’t shake off the drugs he was cloaked in as he opened his eyes blearily. He started to look across the room, from left to right, moving only his eyes, his head was too heavy. Pepper’s face suddenly appeared in his field of vision – she kissed his forehead gently and smiled. 

“Good morning, sleepy head,” she whispered. She smiled, but it was difficult, she could feel her heart breaking at the confused, bone weary look that flittered upon his face. That, combined with his glassy eyes made her want to cry. But she didn’t, she couldn’t, she had to be the strong one.

The doctors had warned her he wouldn’t be fully coherent, not for a few days, thanks to the cocktail of pain medication in his system, combined with the treatment he was being given to combat the dehydration; and then the sedatives which were slowly making their way out of his system. She watched as his eyes drifted shut. Disappointment began to rise, and a tear released itself and trailed down her cheek. She broke into another smile and quickly swatted the tear away as Tony’s eyes fluttered back open, this time staring at her.

“Oh Tony,” she cried, holding herself back, she wanted to climb onto the bed and hold him and squeeze him until her arms were numb. Instead, she held his free hand in both of hers, and patiently waited as he scanned slowly began to scan the room again from left to right. 

“It’s okay,” she said warmly, “you’re safe, you’re in the hospital, and Dr Ruttenberg’s been treating you.”

He looked up at her and mumbled “Pep,” his voice a harsh whisper, she could see him flinch as he swallowed immediately after calling her name. “Y’kay?” He asked, voice still slow and gravely and certainly not the fast, sleek and clear tones she was used to him speaking in at a hundred miles an hour. 

“I’m fine,” she said, tightening her grip on his hand. “I’m fine now I know you’re alright.”

Relief seemed to seep through him and then his eyes twitched once, twice, and drifted closed, the tension lines leaving his face as he drifted off again. “Get some rest,” she whispered again, not knowing why she was whispering, before she kissed him again, this time on his bruised cheek. It looked painful, but she was sure he wouldn’t mind.

*

Later that afternoon Dr Ruttenberg stopped by to check on things. “How’s he doing?” he asked by way of greeting.

“He woke earlier,” Pepper said, sounding much more cheerful than the previous days of waiting. “He spoke, briefly. He was awake for a couple of minutes, probably.”

“Excellent, that’s what I expected. I’m assuming he’ll continued to wake, little and often, over the next day or so. Was he in pain?”

Pepper thought about it for a moment. “No, he seemed okay. He looked disorientated, but that was all. He seemed more tired than anything.” The nurses who checked on him every thirty minutes hadn’t seemed worried about pain levels yet.

“Good.” He checked the chart again. “I’m going to up the dose, just a little, over the next 24 hours, to try and make the reawakening as comfortable as possible.”

“Whatever you think best,” she agreed, as Clint waltzed into the room, nodding at them both by way of greeting. Dr Ruttenberg fiddled with the machinery, made a note on the chart and left the two alone.

Pepper had finally agreed to share the load with the team after a second conversation with Natasha. She had devised a rota so somebody could be with him at all times – nobody commented on the fact that she had more duties than the others, and Pepper appreciated it. She’d arranged it so that she was with him during the day, and the Avengers would take it in turns covering the night slots. 

“Any news?” Clint asked, as soon as they were alone. 

Pepper began to pack her belongings back into her handbag as she prepared to leave. “He woke up, earlier,” she smiled. “He was only conscious for a few minutes, but he was aware, he called my name, that’s got to be a good sign right?”

Clint nodded. “Sure.” He sat down in the seat Pepper had vacated, next to the head of the bed. 

“If he wakes again, could you call me?” 

“Of course.”

She looked at him, sat in the chair, no bag, seemingly empty handed. “Do you have your phone?”

Clint smirked. “In my pocket,” he said, patting his leg.

“Sorry,” Pepper said, embarrassed with herself for questioning him. “Do you want something to read? Or, I can leave you my StarkPad so you have something to do?”

Clint shook his head. “I’m fine just watching.”

“Okay.” She suddenly noticed the gun strapped to his leg, just beneath the pocket he had indicated was holding his phone.

“You’re armed?” 

Clint looked at her blankly, not understanding the question.

“It’s secure here, honestly. Tony designed the security systems.”

“I’m sure it is,” Clint smiled, “but I’m not taking any chances.”

Pepper was worried. “Do you think the people who did this will come after him again?”

Clint stretched. “I’d love them to try it,” he snarled. “But no, they won’t, I’m sure of that. They have what they wanted. Honestly Pepper, I just don’t feel comfortable without a weapon on my person, and I didn’t think the nurses would appreciate my bow and arrow.”

“Yeah,” Pepper said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Because the gun strapped to your thigh is much more subtle.”

“Night Pepper.”

Pepper shook her head as she made her way out of the room. She turned at the door to look Tony over one last time. “See you tomorrow.”

Clint wasn’t sure if she was speaking to him or Tony.

*

The following night, it was Steve’s turn to take watch. He’d been feeling nervous about it all day, trying not to let it show. He was still reeling from the meeting he’d had with Fury the day before, where he had admitted to giving away the intel directly to the terrorists… he shook that thought from his head, he didn’t need to worry about that. Jarvis was still working on tracing it, he couldn’t do anything else. Instead, he needed to focus on Tony.

Watching him as he slept, the bruises staining his skin, the bandages packed against his shoulder, the arm still strapped to his chest to hold it in place; and that thing on his leg… Steve closed his eyes, clenched his fist. This was all of his fault. How was he going to face Tony, tell him that he was responsible for what had been done to him?

Steve felt his breath catch in his throat as the figure before him began to show some small signs of life – a twitching little finger on the right hand, and then a gentle shake of the head. Steve felt himself begin to sweat. The previous nights, Bruce had taken last night, Clint the night before – nothing, Tony had shown no signs of awareness. He’d fallen into a habit of waking for brief moments in the morning when Pepper was with him, and that was it. Not now, Steve thought, as Tony continued to fidget, but he could see what was happening. He crept up from his chair to the bed and stood by Tony’s side, keeping distance between himself and the bed, scared of the tubes and wires and bandages monitoring his friend. He was nervous – did Tony even know he was responsible for his kidnapping and torture? Enough, he told himself, Tony was hurt, and was going to wake up confused - Steve would have to resume his role of Captain and be strong, calm and collected. Tony started to moan, his fidgeting getting more elaborate, he was definitely coming too.

“Tony,” he called gently, “Tony, can you hear me?”

Tony could feel himself move towards consciousness. He felt groggy and tired and dulled down as though drugged. He rolled his head slightly against the pillow and his neck felt stiff. He could feel pain, but he felt disconnected from it. Drugs, he thought, was he in a hospital? The memories came back to him, they slowly filtered through his mind lazily. He had been taken. Caught. And they had hurt him. He remembered the pain, the fear, the anger. They wanted something he didn’t have to give. He felt himself move closer to consciousness, awareness, and he could feel himself begin to tense. 

“Tony? Tony, can you hear me? It’s Steve?”

He couldn’t help the moan that escaped him. Steve? Was Steve really here? He was definitely drugged, on a bed, probably a hospital bed – did Steve find him? No. Tony remembered the last “rescue” attempt, the medics who treated (meaning drugged) him and then the questions in the new hospital room. It was “Steve” who had questioned him then. He could remember. He felt his stomach twist as he remembered how much it had hurt, his shoulder, hell his entire body; but he’d never felt the burn of pain his leg created before. The power of the memory of the pain scared him, even now, knowing he was numb to it. Because they could take that numbness away, and he didn’t know what else he could do to fight. 

Steve was encouraged by the noise Tony had made. He reached over and gently tapped Tony’s unhurt shoulder. “Hey - it’s me.” 

He jerked his hand back as Tony flinched away from the touch, his head pushed back into the pillow, eyes screwed up, anticipating pain. “It’s me, Tony,” Steve said again, trying to reassure him, knowing Tony was awake in there. “You’re safe. You’re been in surgery, and in and out of it since then, so you probably feel strange…”

Tony was still frozen against the pillow. He was confused and tired and he didn’t like the floating sensation inhabiting his body. What if it was Steve? But what if it wasn’t?

Screw it, Tony thought. If I go down, I go down fighting. He’d already made a decent attempt escape once, (albeit with two fully functioning legs), he wasn’t going to give up now. Taking a deep breath, he slowly opened his eyes. The room was dark, he slowly looked across it then settled his gaze on the man at his side. It looked like Steve, even if his vision was blurry and his head was spinning.

“Hey,” Steve smiled at him, “You’re back with us.”

Tony just stared at him, still uncertain if it was the real Steve, or a trick. 

“How do you feel?”

Tony tried to speak but he had to cough instead. His throat hurt, and then he could remember screaming, before. He tried to speak again but another coughing fit began.

“It’s okay,” Steve said, “I’ll get you some water.”

No, Tony thought. No water. Not again. “I-“ he tried, then felt panic well in him as Steve waited. “No-I…” 

“I’ll be back in a sec, you’ll feel better for it.”

“No,” Tony muttered, then coughed again. Steve turned to check he was okay, only now realising how frantic Tony was about the water. Tony tried to reach his hands up, to cover his mouth as he coughed, but only one complied. He looked down, saw the bandages covering his shoulder, the way his left arm was strapped to his chest. “What the hell-“ He gasped, struggling to sit up. Steve gently took his good shoulder, pushed him back towards the bed.

Tony struggled against him, muttering to himself as his panic rose. “The hell,” he grumbled as he tried to bat away Steve’s arms, it looked like he had three arms, or was that the drugs, he thought, as he struggled.

“Tony, calm down,” Steve ordered, “you’re going to hurt yourself.” 

Tony dropped back against the pillow, breathing in small pants as he watched Steve release him. This was another ruse. Did they not know he was a genius? Steve leaned over, a little out of breath himself. “I’m sorry,” he said, “I didn’t meant to sca-“ His words turned into a yelp as Tony’s head connected with his nose. It burst on impact, he tried to hold a hand to it, still shocked, when Tony’s free hand grabbed a fist of his hair and pulled his face down against the bed rail. “Urgh, Steve moaned, his face hurting. “Tony stop, it’s me!” His words only spurred Tony on, and he aimed his fist at Steve’s face. It hurt only a little, due to his weakened state; but Steve was more worried about the damage Tony could do to himself.

“Calm down, Tony, stop, you’re just hurting yourself,” Steve said, trying to hold his flailing arm still. He called out for help. Panic and anger both riddled Tony’s face, it was clear to see even in the darkness of the room. But Tony was quickly tiring. His breathing was ragged and he was weakening. Steve came closer, holding Tony’s fist in his hand, forcing it down against the bed. He used his other to hold his bad shoulder flat against the mattress, regretting pressing the wound, but knowing it was more dangerous for Tony to be jostling the injury. Tony cried out at the contact.

“Just stop,” Steve said, trying to sound calm but make Tony listen. “It’s me, it’s Steve, we got you back.”

Tony finally relaxed against the bed; eyes closed as he tried to control himself. Pain littered his body, it was not as disconnected as it had been before - everywhere hurt, despite the drugs he was probably on. Steve watched him settle, wondered if it was realisation or exhaustion that made him stop fighting. It wasn’t defeat, he was sure of that.

“Steve,” he croaked. His voice sounded sore, quiet, almost timid. “Rogers?”

Steve stepped back a little, trying not to look as intimidating in the darkness as he stood over him, resting an arm on the bed rail. “That’s right Tony, it’s me.”

“Thought you were someone else,” he mumbled. 

“That’s okay,” Steve said warmly. “How are you feeling?”

Tony ignored the questions. “Where’s Pepper?” He asked.

“She’s resting, at home. You’ve been in hospital three days – spent the better part of two days in surgery. Pepper chaperoned each surgery, terrified you would wake up and she wouldn’t be there. She sits with you in the day, but agreed to share the night shifts.” Tony glanced up at him when he spoke about Pepper. “She, well, she’ll be pretty mad when she finds out I was the one you woke up to…”

Tony tried to shift his position in the bed but it hurt and he hissed in pain. “Is Harley okay? Did you find him?”

Steve nodded. “He’s fine. He’s still at the tower, actually. Refused to go home until we had you. He’s a good kid. The people who… took you; they didn’t go after him.”

“Good,” Tony muttered, eyes quickly blinking. “How did you find me?” He asked, yawning, clearly fighting his need for sleep. He looked exhausted and he was slurring his words slightly, Steve knew he would be out before long.

“It’s… a long story,” Steve said, guiltily. “I’d rather talk about it when you’re feeling better.”

Steve braced himself for the argument, the demand that he explain everything now – Tony was not one to allow information to be held from him. Instead he muttered “Sure thing,” as his head lolled back against the pillow. “Don’t need to watch me sleep,” he mumbled, “it’s creepy…” he rambled, before falling off to sleep. Steve couldn’t help but laugh.

As soon as Tony was out again, Steve left to find a nurse. He explained what had happened and asked them to give him a sedative to ensure he didn’t have another startled awakening. Steve didn’t want Pepper to see him like that, and he was sure Tony wouldn’t appreciate it either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you are still reading this, please let me know what you think!


	13. Chapter 13

Natasha caught Steve passing through the kitchen the following morning, Pepper having relieved him from watch duty.

“Hey,” she said by way of greeting. 

“Morning,” Steve mumbled in response.

“You okay?”

“Of course,” he said, trying and failing to brighten his tone. She looked at him carefully, making him feel defensive. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Natasha poured herself a glass of juice. “It’s just look like you have the whole weight of the world on your shoulders.”

Steve nodded his head slightly, then stopped himself. “I’m just tired.”

“Rough night?” She quirked her eyebrow.

Defeated, Steve took a seat at the large kitchen table. Natasha seated herself opposite him, offered him a second glass of juice he didn’t see her pour.

“Thanks.”

“So, are you going to tell me why you’re so glum?”

Steve shrugged his shoulders. “It’s nothing, really. I just feel really awful about-“

“Stop.” Natasha held hand up to emphasise her point. “There is no point in feeling guilty about what happened. You had no idea the chip was being traced. None of this is your fault.”

“But it is. I brought it here.” He paused, ran a hand through his hair. “Tony let us all into his home, I shouldn’t have brought anything from SHIELD in.”

Natasha started to laugh. “Steve, I’m SHIELD. Half of the files in Tony’s systems are SHIELDS, whether they know he has them or not.”

“This is different. They took Tony for the intel. If I had hid it elsewhere…” He sighed. “I just thought this was the safest place, I really did. Like hiding in plain sight. And if they figured it out, well, who's going to attack Stark tower, especially with the Avengers in it?”

Natasha nodded. “I can see where you were coming from. It wasn’t a bad call, don’t beat yourself up about it. Instead we need to focus on helping Stark get better – whether he wants our help or not.”

“Tony isn’t going to want me anywhere near him when he finds out what happened.”

Natasha smiled. “Tony doesn’t do grudges. Even if he is angry at first, he’ll still understand.”

Steve shook his head. “It’s like he already knows,” he said. He had planned to not mention the incident from the night before, but he found himself unable to stop speaking. “Last night, he woke up.”

Natasha stared at him. “And…?”

“And he was confused. He was scared. But still alert. He attacked me.”

Natasha frowned. “Are you okay? I mean, I’m not sure how much damage a man with only one good arm and one good leg, high on drugs can cause, especially to a super soldier, but seriously, are you okay?” 

Steve had to laugh at Natasha’s sarcasm. “He was surprisingly strong, caught me by surprise and head butted me, then bashed my face against the bed rail.”

Natasha looked surprised. “Impressive.”

“Yeah,” Steve scoffed. “My point is, he was angry. He did calm down afterwards, I don’t know if it was shock at seeing me there, or if they told him what I did, and he wanted to-“

“You’re reading too much into it. The doctors warned us he’d become more alert. He probably remembered what happened and thought you were an attacker. It’s good that he tried to fight you. They haven’t broken his spirit.”

Steve shook his head. “I don’t know. He didn’t attack you or Clint.”

Natasha smirked; about to make another joke but stopped herself. “The doctors said most of the sedatives were out of his system yesterday, so he should start to be more aware. He'll have been confused. Don't read too much into this. I doubt Tony will ever even remember it, the amount of morphine they have him on. But you do need to talk about what happened when he’s a little better, clear the air, and explain. I promise you he will understand.”

“Okay,” Steve nodded. “Maybe you’re right. But I need to talk to him, when he’s up to it.”

* 

Tony knew, on waking this time, that it was different. Before, as he had drifted towards awareness, everything had been slow, heavy, difficult. This time, everything was clearer, sharper; when he finally opened his eyes, squinting against the daylight streaming in through a window. 

“Hey.”

Tony slowly glanced to his left, where the voice originated, and saw Pepper smiling at him. He felt himself relax slightly. 

“Good morning,” she said, reaching over and kissing him gently. He felt himself smile, his face tightening slightly at the action. 

“Dr Ruttenberg’s on his way.”

Tony shifted in the bed and gasped as the pain spiked through him, starting heavy in his chest and seeming to splinter its way out into each of his limbs, sending hot sharp shards of pain bolting through him. He gasped again as he fell still, eyes squeezed shut as he fought to control himself. He hadn’t expected any pain, especially not that level of hurt. He realised he was panting for breath and tried to stop. He opened his eyes again wearily and frowned as he remembered that Pepper was here, watching him, like this, her hand now gently resting against his brow with pure worry in her eyes. He tried for another smile, that didn’t cause any discomfort.

He realised she was talking to him, “it's okay,” she was hushing, and “try not to move,” and “Dr Ruttenberg really shouldn’t be long.” Then Tony half heard her mention something about “flushing the drugs out” and “assessments” and his smile stretched as he realised she was babbling – that was something he usually did, not Pepper.

She quietened down as she realised he was smiling at her and returned the gesture. “Are you okay?” she asked tentatively. Tony nodded, trying not to grimace as even that caused the hurt rattling throughout him to flare up again. He realised he hadn’t spoken yet, he still felt a little disorientated, no doubt heightened by the pain, and he grunted out a “sure,” then swallowed heavily, trying not to cough. He realised how vile his mouth tasted and wondered how long he had been here, unaware. 

Pepper’s hand was now gently stroking his hair and Tony melted into the touch, it was warm and soft and took him away from the general pain thrumming through him in line with his pulse. “I was so worried,” she whispered, “don’t ever do this to me again,” she added, laughing. Tony smiled again. “It’s not,” he paused, wincing as he cleared his throat, “high on my list of priorities.” Pepper’s smile only grew. “I’m glad to hear it,” her tone turned suddenly serious. “Do you remember what happened?”

Tony closed his eyes as he nodded. Pepper moved her hand, clasping it over his free one. “Everything’s going to be okay,” she said, but she didn’t sound certain. 

“I know,” Tony said, and squeezed her hand with as much strength as he could muster. Dr Ruttenberg felt bad walking in as he did; sure he was ruining a moment. “Good morning to both of you,” he said cheerily as he strode into the room, taking a seat on the other side of the bed, his eyes scanning his patient carefully. “Tony, I’d say it's good to see you again, and it would be, under different circumstances.”

Tony nodded. He was already tiring. Dr Ruttenberg seemed to notice and continued on. “You’ve been here a week, although I doubt you remember much of it. We had to perform a few surgeries when you were brought in, and you’ve been heavily sedated since then. But the sedatives have been flushed from your system, and I’ve largely lowered your painkiller doses, so we can do a quick assessment, now you’re lucid.” He paused, sighing, and Tony felt himself tense. “It’s not going to be pretty, Tony, I can’t lie, it’s probably going to hurt, actually, but I really need to examine you properly, and get your input whilst doing so."

“Great,” Tony muttered.

“How are you feeling?” He asked, wondering if he should have started with this. Tony tried to shrug then stopped, remembering his earlier mistake of moving. “Okay, everything’s feeling a little fuzzy, but not too much. I don’t feel too bad, if I don’t move.”

Dr Ruttenberg smiled. “And when you do move?”

Tony felt his mood begin to sour. “Not something I want to do again,” he answered honestly.

Dr Ruttenberg laughed, Pepper didn’t. “Okay, well I think we best get started. The sooner we start, the sooner it’s over. Pepper, would you mind giving us some time? I think it’s better if we did this in private?”

Pepper looked to Tony, expecting her to say it was okay, that she could stay, but he didn’t. She wanted to stay, but she understood. Tony wouldn’t want her to see him in pain. “Of course,” she said, her voice betraying her true feelings. “I’ll be back later.”

Only when they were alone did Tony finally look himself over, as best as he could from his position laid on the bed. He took in the way his shoulder and arm was heavily wrapped in bandages, and strapped to his chest. Beneath the strapping, visible in the gap of his hospital gown, were more bandages, Tony assumed they were there to support his ribs, they hurt generally so he assumed they were broken. The gown covered almost everything else, until he caught sight of his leg. He jerked his head up to stare at Dr Ruttenberg. “What the hell is that?” He snapped, panicked. “Is this some kind of weird nightmare about a malfunctioning piece of armour?”

Dr Ruttenberg smiled patiently. “No, it’s not. And you know what it is. If you don’t, I’d like to question the “genius” title you are often labelled with. It’s a fixator and the clue is in the name. It’s helping to fix your leg, or what was left of it.”

Tony shut his eyes. “Great,” he mumbled, “just great.”

Dr Ruttenberg patted him on his good shoulder gently. “Let’s get these tests out of the way, then we need to agree on a pain management strategy. I know you’re hurting, even now. After that, when you’re more comfortable, we’ll outline your options and treatment plans.” He started to pull on his medical gloves. “Does that sound okay?”

Tony shivered. “Sure,” he muttered, watching wearily. 

*

Dr Ruttenberg got to work quickly. It took quite some effort to get Tony into a sitting position, and then he worked his way through the injuries littering his body as quickly but gently as possible. He would push a joint here, pull or prod something elsewhere, all the time monitoring Tony’s reactions, having him rate the pain between 1 and 10. He unstrapped his left arm from his chest and it took all of Tony’s effort not to cry out at the motion. When he gently rotated the shoulder, which had been carefully cleaned and stitched after they had removed the bullet, Tony felt his vision waver and then everything blacked out. He came too to find himself laid back against the bed, slightly propped up by a pillow, with his arm already rewrapped and strapped back into place against his chest.

“Sorry,” he mumbled thickly.

Dr Ruttenberg shook his head. “I’m sorry,” he said gravely, “I honestly wasn’t expecting that. I’ll be more careful.” 

Tony felt exhausted but insisted on finishing the examination. When it was over he let out a long breath and realised that his whole body was trembling. Pepper entered the room as Dr Ruttenberg finished writing some notes up, and she was at his side instantly. “Are you okay?” she said, running a hand over his sweat soaked brow, pushing his hair back. “You look tired.”

“I’m okay,” he said tiredly before Dr Ruttenberg re-joined them. 

“I’m glad you’re here, now we’ve finished the exam,” he said by way of greeting. “Before we get started,” he moved to the IV lines running different wires and tubes into Tony's good hand, “I think you could do with some morphine. Just a low dose, for now, and when we finish I’ll add a more generous dose?”

It was phrased as a question and Pepper was surprised when Tony didn’t decline the offer. “That would be good,” he said quietly, his words clipped. Dr Ruttenberg emptied a syringe into the port and Tony closed his eyes as he felt the sharp edges of the pain ease off slightly. When he opened his eyes he let out a short sigh and nodded his thanks. 

“That’s just a taster,” Dr Ruttenberg said warmly, “but I promise it will be easier after we finish up.”

Tony nodded again, not knowing what to say. He didn’t want to betray how much it still hurt, how weak he felt, but he still felt all of those things. 

“Right, first, we need to talk about the injuries you have sustained. You’re body has been through a lot, there’s no denying it.” Tony nodded again. “Alright, now, you’ve clearly suffered multiple forceful hits to the head and face. Whilst I can’t see any clear signs of brain damage,” he joked, trying to lighten the mood, “I’ve scheduled you in for a head scan tomorrow. It’s just a precaution, but I especially want to be clear that the issues with your vision aren’t permanent.”

Tony had explained, earlier, how he kept getting spots in his vision, coming and going in the eye which had been swollen shut for almost a week. Dr Ruttenberg assured him it was more than likely a short term response to the swelling, but it didn’t hurt to check.

“What’s wrong with your vision?” Pepper asked worriedly. 

“Nothing,” Tony said, not wanting to go over it again. Dr Ruttenberg explained Tony’s earlier confession. 

Tony could sense her unease. “Don’t worry,” he said, “worst case scenario I get a glass eye. I’ve always wondered about the possibility of connecting-“

“Tony!” Pepper stopped him, not appreciating his attempt to lighten the mood.

“I’m sure it won’t come to that,” Dr Ruttenberg interrupted, “as I said, this is a precaution only. Now, you’ve suffered other injuries consistent with what I’d expect for anybody on the receiving end of a severe beating. You’re ribs are bruised; two with hairline fractures, and you're covered in lots of cuts and scrapes and bruises. We’ve stitched and wrapped what we can, but it’s generally a waiting time with these types of injuries, which usually heal with rest and time.”

Tony gently stretched out on the bed, careful not to move the leg encased in metal. “I don’t think rest will be difficult at the minute,” he agreed.

“Now, onto the more serious of injuries. Your shoulder. You were shot and the bullet was lodged within the muscle of your shoulder. It will heal, but the tissue damage and scarring means the limb will need regular exercise to regain full mobility. 

“Does flying count as exercise?”

The comment was ignored.

“I hope to lose the strapping over the next few days. Then the physiotherapists can get to work on it. The joint will be sore and stiff, and movement will initially be restricted. It’s going to take a lot of work to ensure full mobility is regained,” he warned. Tony nodded, and Pepper again held his good hand in hers, mindful of the IV port. Although he didn’t show it, she knew how worried he would be about his arm, whatever he said.

“Now,” the doctor continued, “your left leg.” Tony looked down at the limb, and for the first time, worry showed on his face. “I can’t lie, for a time we were worried about amputation. I think it now unlikely that we will have to resort to this, but it's not good. You suffered multiple breaks, fractures, and in some instances shattered bone in the lower leg and foot. There was also significant tissue damage, and the skin around these wounds was infected quite badly. We’ve been giving you strong antibiotics and when I last checked the wounds, the infection had almost cleared. Now, there was significant damage to the ankle socket, and we’re expecting at least one further surgery to rebuild the joint. We’ve had to rebuild the damaged bones in your leg and foot, using metal plates and bolts. The fixator is holding all of this in place. It’s uncomfortable, unsightly, heavy and painful, but it is a necessity.”

Tony frowned. “So how long does this thing have to stay on for?”

“That’s the thing, it's hard to tell. It’s not an exact science, and it depends on how quickly the wounds heal. It’s more difficult, because the fixator is screwed into your leg – we have to go in to assess it, so we want to be sure when we go in, it's to take it off.”

Pepper’s grip tightened on his hand. “Ball park?” Tony asked.

Dr Ruttenberg ran a hand through his hair. “I’m guessing blind, but I’d expect the fixator to be on between 3 and 9 months. I’ve got a team drawing up exercise plans for both your leg and shoulder. Exercise will be a key factor in the healing process, especially for your leg. You’re going to need to get walking on it, with crutches of course. While the fixator is on. But we need your shoulder strong enough first. Everything has a knock on effect.”

“He needs to walk on it?” Pepper asked, shocked.

“Yes. It will be hard work, and it will hurt. But studies have shown this is the quickest way to strengthen the wound.”

Tony paled. 

“We’ll start you off in a wheelchair, and then as your shoulder strengthens, we’ll get you onto crutches. Eventually, this will be off and you’ll be good as new.”

“Right,” Tony said, doubtful.

“However, as if there weren’t enough spanners in the works… the fixator is connected directly to the bones and plates in your leg, its screwed in with, pins. The pins therefore effectively creates holes in the flesh of your leg, open wounds. That’s why so much blood has soaked through the bandages.”

Tony closed his eyes, knowing where this was going. 

“So we need to keep it clean. Fresh dressings, antiseptic wipes… It’s going to be quite painful, but we’ll try and get the timings right, so it’s only cleaned after you’ve been medicated.”

“Excellent,” Tony said the look of dejection clear on his face.

Dr Ruttenberg sat forward. “I know it's hard, and it’s a lot to take in. But you need to focus on the fact that you can recover from this. It’s going to take time, and a lot of hard work, effort, and strength. But I’m confident that you can do it. You outdid all of our expectations last time, with the surgery; I know you can do it again.”

Tony shook his head, looking defeated. “Sure,” he said, unconvincingly.

Pepper rubbed his arm. “It will get better,” she promised. 

“So,” Tony said, changing the subject. “Anything else I need to know about?" 

Dr Ruttenberg nodded. “One more thing, then I’ll leave you be. Pain management.”

That got Tony’s attention.

“I intend to keep you on morphine for the foreseeable future, unless you have any problems with that?” Tony shook his head. “On the evenings I plan to give you a larger dose, to ensure you sleep comfortably and give your body the rest it needs. Throughout the day I’m happy to let you administer it yourself, little and often, as you see fit; at least for now.”

Tony nodded.

“You need to be honest with yourself, and me. Don’t hold back. If you're hurting, you need to take the relief. And at times, the morphine might not be enough. In those instances you need to speak to me. I have to be able to trust you to be honest, and really give yourself what you need.”

Tony nodded again. “I get it,” he said, then ran a hand over his eyes tiredly. “To be honest, I’m kinda ready for that bigger dose now.”

Dr Ruttenberg nodded. “Good. I’ll be back shortly. Tomorrow we’ll go over the controller that will allow you to medicate yourself.”

He left the room and Pepper waited for Tony to speak first. He stared at Pepper then shrugged, struggling to find words. He couldn’t help but frown. “I’m sorry. This sucks.”

“Don’t apologise,” Pepper said, “please. I’m just so relieved that you’re here, in one piece.” She and Tony both looked down at his leg at the same time. “That was a stupid thing to say,” Pepper said, feeling terrible. 

“Almost one piece,” Tony said, and then added "actually, I've gained a piece." He let out a slight laugh but stopped when it jostled his ribs and shoulder. His face turned serious as he looked at her. “I don’t know if I can do this again.” He wasn't sure where this honestly was coming from, was it the exhaustion, or the fear?

She gently pulled his hand to her mouth and kissed his fingers. “You can, you will. I know it.”

Tony shook his head. “It was so hard, before, and then I knew what I was getting into, it was my decision to have the shrapnel removed. When it hurt, I knew why, I’d made the decision.”

Pepper shushed him. “This isn’t fair, I know, but you’re here now. What are you going to do, but heal and recover?”

Tony shrugged. “That’s not what I meant.”

“I know.” 

Tony tried once more to lift his mood. “It seems I’m destined to have metal embedded in my body.”

Pepper smirked. “You are Iron Man. And you know, when Thor finds out, you’ll never get him to stop calling you “The Man of Metal” now.” 

“Yeah, I’m screwed,” he said, blinking his eyes, pushing away the tiredness. Dr Ruttenberg reappeared, and gave Tony the medication as promised. Tony felt the effects immediately as his pain eased and his body seemed to lighten, almost float above the mattress.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, feeling even drowsier.

“I’ll be by in the morning, to talk you through the self-medicating controller,” he reminded.

“Sure,” Tony said, eyes still blinking. Dr Ruttenberg left, it was just him and Pepper again. He really, really didn’t want to nod off so soon, but hit was hard to keep his eyes open.

“You should sleep,” Pepper said. She knew how tired he was. 

Tony shook his head even as his eyes fluttered closed again. “I want to spend some time with you,” he said, words starting to slur.

Pepper smiled, started to respond, but he was already asleep. She watched him for a minute of two before getting up to leave. She wanted to find Dr Ruttenberg and have a more in depth chat without Tony’s interruptions and jokes; she needed to know how serious this really was. 

*

The next morning, Steve bumped into Natasha in the kitchen. 

"We have to stop meeting like this," Natasha laughed. Steve smiled. He hadn’t seen her since their last discussion about Tony. It wasn’t like Steve had been actively avoiding Natasha, it just happened. Steve sat down at the table as Natasha made coffee, first pouring herself one, then Steve one too. He took it gratefully as she took a seat next to him. 

“Have you seen Tony yet?”

Steve shrugged. “Not yet, I’m last on the schedule. You today, then I think Clint?” 

“You don’t have to stick to that, you know.”

Steve nodded, saying nothing.

“So,” Natasha continued, “how did it go?”

Steve’s head shot up. “How do you know? Did Fury tell you?”

Natasha smirked. “Of course he didn’t, but you just confirmed my suspicions. And you’ve been very quiet since you left without warning last night. I knew if it wasn’t Tony you were sneaking off to see, it had to be Fury.”

Steve sighed. He'd forgotten how good Natasha was at this. “So, how did it go?”

Steve looked down at the table. “I’m suspended until further notice.”

Natasha laughed. “Meaning, until we receive a call to assemble?”

Steve shrugged. “I don’t know. Fury’s… pissed. I feel confused, if I’m honest.” He took a sip of coffee, then Natasha nudged him gently with her elbow, prompting him to continue. “Part of me feels like a traitor, I complied with terrorist demands, because I let my personal relationship with Tony cloud my judgement. I deserve to be off of the team.” He paused again, ordering his thoughts, Natasha watched him carefully. “And, another part of my is so ashamed of what I did, what it resulted in, I mean, Tony, he…”

“That isn’t your fault. And you're not off the team - you're our leader. Fury's powerless and he knows it. This is him trying to save face.”

“Never mind Fury, this is all down to me. I brought that data into this tower. Tony's home! And look at him now. He’s stuck in hospital, probably maimed for life!”

“No, he isn’t. The doctors are confident he will make a full recovery in time.”

Steve scoffed. “In time, how do you think Tony’s going to cope, he’s the most impatient man I know.”

“He’s going to have to tough it out. But we’ll all be there to help him through it.”

Steve shook his head. 

“And remember,” she continued, “Tony knew the risks when he invited us into the tower. I mean come on, he welcomed Bruce with open arms, and the man’s basically a military fugitive. Tony knew what he was letting himself in for.”

“I feel, I feel so guilty Nat. I think I need to talk to him.”

Natasha sighed. “You do, but not yet. He’s only been awake a day, and Pepper said he’s still sleeping a lot. When he’s awake, he’s going to be in pain. I think he needs a little time to adjust, a few days at least.”

“Pepper scheduled me in for Sunday, I should mention it to him then. I can’t see him, talk to him, and not mention it. That would just make the betrayal worse.”

“Fine. But it isn't a betrayal, it's an accident. He will understand Steve. He might bitch and moan at first, but he’ll understand.”

Steve smiled slightly. “I think I’d rather tell him now and run away while he’s still too groggy to catch me.”

“Don’t worry,” she replied, voice flat, face blank. “He won’t be running again for quite a while.”

Steve paled. “That wasn’t what I meant, I shouldn’t have said-“

“I was joking Rogers,” Natasha laughed. 

Steve looked stern. “I don’t think we should be joking like that around Tony.”

“Stark can’t ignore any elephant in any room. I think he’s going to need jokes like that to get through this.”

*

Pepper was still dozing in the chair when Tony woke up the following morning. He took a minute or two to remember where he was and what had happened, then he spotted Pepper in the chair looking as exhausted as he felt. He slowly sat up against his pillow and was left breathless from the pain. 

“Right,” he muttered to himself, “forgot about that.”

Pepper opened one eye. “Forgot about what?” She reached over and gave him a quick kiss.

“Nothing,” he lied, trying to even his breathing out. 

Pepper took in his tired expression; she could see the pain in his eyes which were much clearer than they had been after the morphine hit he’d been given the night before. 

“You shouldn’t hide the fact that you’re in pain from me Tony.”

Tony swallowed hard. “I’m not,” he said, then shifted slightly again and gasped. “Okay, that was a lie,” he said, his voice a notch higher than before.

“I’ll go get Dr Ruttenberg.”

Dr Ruttenberg gave Tony the small controller which was connected to the IV pump and morphine supply. He explained how it worked, and the expected dosages, but was clear that has happy to trust Tony’s judgement, especially in the earlier stages. When Tony needed a hit, he just had to press the button on the remote, just one click and pain relief would instantly flood his views. Right now, it sounded good. Dr Ruttenberg looked fresh, and it was clear to Tony that whilst his doctor had been home for the evening, Pepper had not.

After the doctor left Tony relaxed, feeling the first dose of medication swarm over him. It didn’t rid him of the pain by any stretch, but it made it more manageable. He looked at Pepper through slightly glassy eyes. “You can’t keep doing this,” he said seriously. 

Pepper laughed. “I could say the same to you.”

Tony smiled softly. “You can’t be here all the time, you look… worn out. Tired. You need to go home and rest.”

“You sure know how to make a lady feel good about herself."

Tony stared at her. Pepper continued, "I need to be with you.”

“I’m fine,” Tony said, then winced slightly. “Okay, not fine, but I’m not exactly dying. I don’t need a babysitter.”

Pepper shook her head. “I’ve promised the others I’d agree to a new schedule starting from tomorrow.”

Tony was confused. “Huh?” He shifted again in the bed, and this time, the sharp twangs of pain didn’t follow. It felt good.

“I guess I have been hogging you, these past few days. I just didn’t want you to wake up without me at your side.”

Tony was still confused. “Hogging me? Pepper what are you talking about?”

“The team. Steve, Natasha, Clint and Bruce. They’ve been keeping watch, I arranged a rota. Bruce hasn’t been here much, actually, he was worried about transforming in the hospital. But when they started reducing the sedatives, I asked them to stop coming for a while.”

“Oh.” Tony was surprised; he hadn’t expected the team to be here. He had hoped for a rescue attempt, but that was it. The thought that they had been here was… kind of nice. He’d expected them to be mad at him, maybe they still were. 

“Natasha has been texting me constantly. From tonight it’s a full rotation, she says, and I don’t want to argue with that.”

Tony was still struggling to grasp this. “So, they’ve been… here? I don’t remember.”

“You were in and out of it, most of the time.”

“It’s a bit creepy, knowing they’ve been here while I was asleep.”

Pepper tapped his good arm gently as a scolding. “They were worried about you.” She saw he was still struggling to accept this but she didn’t want to push it too far.

“That’s… okay I guess.”

“So, I’ll agree a new schedule, maybe get them to cover the nights, I’ll do the days.”

Tony shook his head again. “I don’t need a babysitter, and I really don’t want people watching me while I sleep. If people want to visit me then, that’s nice, but daylight hours only, and I don’t need a schedule drawing up! And you need to lay off, or you’ll make yourself ill.” Tony felt torn – part of him wanted the visitors, it might show that they weren’t mad at him, and it would help stop him thinking about what had happened; the thoughts drifted into his head when he had no distractions. But still, a rota was overkill; they could visit if they wanted to, not because Pepper had roped them into it. He knew he was being stubborn, but still.

Pepper didn’t want to argue so she changed the subject instead. “How are you feeling? Other than the pain, the leg, the fact that you can only use one arm…” she joked, trying to lighted the mood again. “Is your appetite back yet?”

Tony shook his head. For now he was being fed nutrients through the IV line. He needed to start eating soon but he just didn’t feel like it. He’d agreed to try some soup for lunch, but he wasn’t looking forward to it. “Not really,” he said, “I just don’t feel like eating. If anything,” he ran his free hand up against his face, it still felt tender where the last of the bruises were fading, “I’d like a shave. And a shower.” He shrugged. “Not too sure I’m getting the shower any time soon.”

“I don’t think that’s a possibility. But the shave I can help with. I guess for now bathing will have to be sponge baths.” Tony raised an eyebrow and started to smirk. “Oh,” she said, “looks like some of your appetites are coming back.”

Tony laughed gently. “Hygiene is good for heeling.”

“Sure. Well, you’re going to need a nurse for the sponge baths, when you’re released.”

“Please tell me you’ll be the nurse, and you’re not going to hire an old lady?”

Pepper smirked. “Maybe I’ll hire an old man.”

Tony laughed again, settling back down against the pillows. 

Pepper leaned over and kissed him. “I’m going to pop out, pick some bits up for you, a razor and some foam, at least. I’ll speak to Dr Ruttenberg about getting you that sponge bath. I think he’ll have one of his team administer it though. But we need to know how we go about things like this, especially when we get you home.”

“Spoil sport,” Tony said, although he understood.

“When you get home, I’ll be able to help then. And if I’m going to be your nurse, I’d better get an outfit.”

Tony grinned. She kissed him again. “I’ll be back later, you get some rest.”

“Not sure how restful I’m feeling after that image,” he joked. He felt himself drift off again soon after Pepper’s departure. It seemed there was no limit to the amount of sleep his body needed right now.


	14. Chapter 14

Later that evening Natasha called all of the Avengers and asked them to meet her in the common room. Bruce ambled in last looking tired, only just starting to fully recover from the Hulk out. It happened over a week ago and this was the worst the after effects had ever been. 

“So,” Natasha said, wasting no time in getting started. “The reason I called you here – Fury’s been in touch. SHIELD want to debrief Tony, sooner rather than later.”

“What?” Steve sounded outraged.

Clint shrugged. “It’s standard procedure. They need to track down the guys that did this, and the chip. I’m surprised they waited this long.”

“He’s been fully conscious for a day!”

Clint held his hands up defensively. “I know. But the way SHIELD will see it, the sooner they speak to him, the more he’ll remember. He might be able to give us a lead?”

Natasha cut their conversation off. “I did some negotiating with Fury. He does want the information as soon as possible and he wants something by the end of the week. He was going to send one of their agents over to do it but I argued that it would be better for one of his team mates to conduct it. I don’t know about you guys, but I don’t feel comfortable letting a stranger in there. He agreed, and…” she took a deep breath. “I want to nominate myself.” 

The room went silent.

“I am open for discussion, but first I’ll explain my reasoning. Clint – do you think you could prevent yourself from making wisecracks and jokes while discussing something so sensitive?”

Clint smirked. “I’d like to think I could, but I can’t guarantee it.”

“Bruce – this will be a difficult conversation. I’m worried about the odds of you turning green.”

Bruce gave a crooked smile. “As am I.”

Natasha nodded. “Steve, no offence, but given the situation I don’t think this is the job for you.”

“I don’t know,” Steve sighed. “Are we sure he will be comfortable enough to speak to you? Would he find it easier up to open up to a stranger?”

“I know where you’re coming from. But he trusts me. And, I’ve seen him hurt before. It’s something, right? I think this is the best bet. He might open up to a stranger, but at least I’ll know if he’s trying it on.”

“Okay,” Steve nodded. “Just remember you are debriefing a friend, not interrogating a suspect.” 

Clint couldn’t help the laugh that bellowed out.

“I see what you mean about the jokes,” Steve deadpanned.

*

Tony looked up and put on his best snarky face as Clint entered his hospital room. He was sat in bed, propped upright against the pillows, Clint set himself down in the chair next to the bed and Tony suddenly felt self-conscious in his hospital gown. He was floating on a nice cloud of morphine – a nurse had recently changed his dressings and he had needed the double dose they gave him before that. Despite the meds it had hurt, and now, nearly half an hour after she had finished, the pain had eased but his body was still trembling slightly. He tried his best to hide it from his visitor.

“Hey Robin,” Tony greeted.

“Look whose back in the land of the living.” It was the first time he had seen Tony awake and alert since the patient had regained consciousness. Pepper now spent the nights in a cot pushed up against the bed, and the team dropped by as and when they could. 

“Sure am,” Tony smiled, feeling the drugs dulling him down a little. Clint had already noticed but didn’t comment on it. Clint handed Tony an object, he went to grab it with his free hand then stopped himself. “What’s that? Could you put it down there for me,” he said, patting the mattress next to his knee. 

“It’s your StarkTab,” Clint said, surprised he hadn’t recognised it. “I know what you’re like, how bored you’ll be. I thought you might want it? And if you get really bored you can design me some new arrows,” he joked.

“Thanks,” Tony smiled, touched by the gesture. “Next time you want to smuggle something in, I’d really appreciate a cheeseburger.”

Clint laughed. “’I thought you we’re going to say scotch.” Clint shook his head again. “Cheeseburger, I’ll try to remember. So,” he pointed to the leg. “That looks…awful. I thought I was going to get to sign a pot but, clearly not. I brought a marker pen as well,” he mused. 

“No pot yet, sorry.” Tony didn’t really feel like joking about it today but he tried. “I didn’t know you could actually write though, that’s interesting.”

Clint smirked. He could see that his friend was drugged, by the way he spoke. Each word was slow, carefully chosen, unlike the usual frantic energy with which his speech would shoot out like rapid fire. 

“Seriously though, how are you?”

Tony sighed. “I don’t know,” he said, surprising himself with his honesty. “Glad I’m still here, if I’m honest. Just wondering about the odds of inventing a time machine to fast forward past the next few months.”

Or go back in time to prevent this from happening, Clint thought, but didn’t say it. “Good idea,” he said instead. “Let me know if you need a hand.”

Tony smiled. “Thanks though,” he said quietly, “for getting me out.”

“No problem, had to. That kid, Harvey?”

“Harley.”

“Well, whatever. He wouldn’t go home until we had you back. He had me teaching him archery every day when he wasn’t in the lab with Bruce. When we realised he wasn’t going to leave until we found you, we figured we had better start looking. No other way to get rid of him.”

Tony smirked at the joke but couldn’t think of anything to say. “He’s a good kid,” he said, blinking tiredly.

“Listen,” Clint said, “I’m going to take off. I’ve got a few things to take care of, but I’ll stop by later.”

“It’s okay, you don’t have to visit.”

“Hey,” Clint said sharply, seeing the way Tony’s mood had turned. Maybe it had been too soon for the joke about Harley. He wasn’t sure how to handle this, so he just decided to be himself. “Don’t be an asshole. I’ll see you later.”

Tony let out a quiet laugh. “Thanks,” he called out as Clint left the room. Now alone, he picked the tablet up, stared at it with disinterest before twisting to drop it on to the bedside table. He closed his eyes, feeling tired. A side effect of the drugs. He didn’t like taking them, didn’t like how they made him feel slow and fuzzy, but he had needed them. He didn’t realise he had fallen asleep until he woke hours later, feeling more alert, refreshed; even though it was beginning to get dark out. He sat up, feeling pain twinge through him. He grabbed the controller but then dropped it back down, deciding to see how long he could go without taking any more medication. 

It took a few more minutes before he noticed the paper bag propped up against the fixator on his bed. A note was pinned to it, the writing unmistakably Clint’s. “Tony, Don’t ever tell me I’m not good at following instructions. See you later.” He reached inside the bag and grinned as he pulled out two cheeseburgers. He hadn’t expected this. They were cold, he’d been asleep longer than he realised. He wolfed them down, one straight after the other, then sighed, feeling satisfied. They had been better than he had expected. He picked up his phone and took a picture of the two empty burger wrappers, then began to type: “Dinner was awesome, you can come again. Thanks, T.” 

*

“So,” Natasha said, adjusting her skirt as she sat down. “Do you just want to talk and I’ll ask questions as we go along?”

Tony nodded and swallowed hard. “Fine.” It wasn’t fine, he didn’t want to talk about this, didn’t want to think about it, but he knew there was no getting around it. “You know,” he said, trying to joke, “this would be a lot easier if I were dunk.” Natasha just stared at him. “Okay,” he said, looking down at his hands. He took a deep breath before starting. “I guess it started when I picked Harley up at the airfield. I flew him over in the jet – I feel bad, he wanted me to come to him, see what he’s been working on, and I had to blow him off for a last minute conference.”

“I checked into this, it was legit.”

“Oh.” Tony hadn’t even considered the idea that the speech was a ploy to lure him out. “Well, we were driving, not for long, I don’t think, and we came under attack. A van, some kind of mini-van, came up and starting firing at us. It was strange, it could keep up with the Audi, they had done some work on the engine, must have, to allow it to keep up with me, to match my speed… did you get my car?” He asked.

Natasha smirked. “We got its ashes, they burnt it out.”

Tony swallowed again. “Shame,” he muttered, “I loved that car.”

“I’m sure you can replace it.”

“That’s not the point,” he snapped. It was the first time he’d ever sounded anything other than uncaring about money. “Anyway,” he said, feeling more calm, “I drove as fast as I could, saw a chance to get Harley out and took it. Not long after that, I think they blew the tyres out?” He thought back. “I had to stop, I took off running. I got shot.” He rubbed his hand gently over the heavily wrapped bandages. “It hurt,” he said, “it’s nothing like when it happens on TV.”

“I know,” Natasha nodded.

“Of course you do,” he said, sarcastically. “Well, they gave me a choice. I could go with them willingly and they would leave the kid alone, wouldn’t go after him.”

“What did you do?”

“What could I do? It wasn’t really a choice. I surrendered. I don’t really remember after that… one minute I was there, on the road, and then next I woke up in some room.”

Natasha nodded. “Did you ever leave the building?”

Tony shook his head. “Not that I remember. I just saw two rooms. One was empty, the other was nearly identical but it had a chair in it. They both had one way mirrors. That was it.”

Natasha understood. She knew what the room with the chair was used for. Standard procedure. A holding room and a torture room. “So,” she prompted. “They questioned you.”

Tony sighed and rubbed at his chin with his free hand before answering. “I think that’s pretty obvious.”

“What did they ask you?”

“They kept asking about a chip – like a microchip or a memory card. Said Steve had it, had taken it into the tower? They seemed to think I had it, or knew where it was, at least.”

“What did you tell them?”

Tony glared at her, suddenly cold. She held up her hands defensively. “I mean – did you misdirect them, give them false information?”

“No, I was too busy getting my ass kicked and protesting my innocence.”

“They didn’t believe you?”

“Would you? Of course they didn’t!”

“So?”

Tony felt his anger rise again. His hand clenched into a fist. “I’m not going to sit here and tell you what they did to me, living through it once was enough.”

Natasha expected as much. “Fair enough – but their techniques, were they professional? Sophisticated?” 

Tony rubbed at his face again. “Professional yes. Sophisticated no. It was just a good old fashioned beating. They were very violent, very aggressive, very…” he trailed off. “They weren’t torturing me, if that’s what you think. Just hurting me.”

“There’s a difference?”

Tony just nodded. “Anyway,” he said, not wanting to take his mind back there, not now. “So is it true? Does Steve have something they want?”

“He did. He gave it up though. Traded it for you.”

“He-what?” Tony was shocked. “He did what!?”

“Yeah. JARVIS backed it up as much as he was able, Fury has a copy. It was a mission, he assigned Steve with its safe keeping. None of us knew about it. Some how they found out. SHIELD knows Steve traded it, Fury is, well, furious.”

Tony was silent for a little while longer. “Why would he do that?” he finally asked.

“Because you’re our team mate? You were in danger. And he felt terrible, that he accidentally involved you in this.”

“He didn’t know what would happen.”

“No, he didn’t. You might want to tell him that.”

“I will,” Tony said, shoulders slumped. “When I see him. He’s not exactly showing his face around here.”

“He wants to talk to you, I told him to wait, until you were a little better. He wants to stop by soon. He’s worried about you. And he’s scared of how you will react. You know Steve, all of this is his fault. And… there’s one more reason for his avoidance.”

“Huh?”

“Yeah,” she said. “A few nights ago, he was here. You probably don’t remember; you were still heavily sedated. Well you woke up. He tried to calm you and you attacked him.”

“I don’t remember.”

“That’s not surprising. But you didn’t attack anyone else the few times you woke. Just him. You know Steve, he’d take it to heart anyway, but with everything else, he’s got it in his head that you blame him for what happened.”

“Urgh, there may be another reason,” he said sheepishly. “I, when I was there… I… they,” he paused, trying to order his thoughts. Natasha had never seen him look so uncertain before. “After they’d questioned me,” he swallowed heavily. He tapped the top of the fixator gently. “After my leg… there was a rescue attempt. You guys got me out.” He gave a small, embarrassed laugh. “At least, that’s what it looked like. I saw Steve, then I was carried out by some medics, on a stretcher. I woke up in a hospital bed. It was very convincing.” 

Natasha had seen the fake hospital room on the video, knew it was convincing.

“I was half awake, definitely drugged, I could hardly lift my head, let alone think. Steve came. Obviously it wasn’t him, but it wasn’t bad for a double. He questioned me, asked me what I’d told them, assumed I’d broke, given in. I was furious. But then I realised it was a ploy, because I didn’t know the information, so I couldn’t have given them it. Maybe that’s why I attacked him?” 

“Maybe. You two definitely need to talk.”

“Yeah.” His hand was back, gently rubbing at his shoulder.

“So they asked about nothing other than the chip?”

“That’s all. They wasted an opportunity really, they could have asked me about anything.”

Natasha pointed to his leg. It was big and heavy, wrapped in bandages that had soaked through with blood in places, beneath the silver frame. “So you tried to escape?”

Tony looked at her surprised. “My, my,” he said, “quite the mind reader aren’t you?”

It wasn’t that funny but she smiled anyway to cut him some slack. “If my prisoner tried to escape, first thing I’d do is break a leg, make sure they don’t try again.”

“Right. Well, I did try to escape, it didn’t end very well.” He let his eyes rest on the damaged leg again as he spoke, he couldn’t help but grimace at how awful it looked.

“What did you do?”

“They left me alone with one man. He got too close. My hands were cuffed in front of me, I tried to strangle him. Obviously, I didn’t quite pull it off. And, the guy I tried to kill, didn’t really appreciate it.” He winced again at the memory, regret plain to see on his face. Natasha had never seen him look so open before. Usually, his face was a polished mask to the world, and you had to work to see what was going on beneath the eyes. Today though, his emotions were obvious, and it unsettled her. Maybe it was the pain, or the medication, she wondered. 

“Look,” he said, feeling agitated, not wanting to talk about what happened any more. “Are we done here?”

“Why, do you have somewhere to be?”

“That’s not funny.”

“No, it’s not. Now, can you describe any of the men involved?”

Tony shrugged. “They always wore balaclavas and blue gloves, like they wear at the dentist. There were four of them. One was built big, like Steve – I think he’s the one who impersonated him. One was smaller, more of a build like me. He’s the one I tried to take out… I can’t remember much about the other two.”

“Accents?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” He ran a hand over his face. “I can’t remember. I might recognise their voices, but that’s all.”

“What about the fake rescue? We’re others involved, or was it the same four men?”

“I’m not sure,” Tony sighed. “They definitely drugged me, but they were dressed like paramedics.”

“Do you think it was the same four men?”

“I don’t know,” Tony snapped.

“Try to think.”

“I am, and I’m telling you I don’t know. Maybe if you catch the people who did this, you could ask them?” His tone was bitter.

“We’re doing everything we can to find them, you know that.” Natasha’s voice had softened a little. “You know any information you give us can only help the search.”

Tony nodded, it was as much of an apology as she was ever going to get. “So, the fake hospital room – we’re you moved elsewhere, or was it in the same building you were originally housed in?” She didn’t tell him that she knew the answer, that Clint had passed the room when breaking him out, she just wanted to test his response.

“I don’t know,” he said tiredly. “It was all a blur after that, after they broke my leg, nothing’s clear. I think they kept me drugged.”

Natasha dropped her pad down onto her lap just as one of the nurses ambled into the room, a late middle aged rounded woman. She smiled warmly at them as she set a tray down on the table next to the bed, within Tony’s reach. “I’ll just leave this here,” she whispered, “Sorry for the interruption.” 

“Okay,” she said, not wanting to push him any further. His face was lined with sweat and she could see through the gown the way his chest was drawing air in short, fast breaths. “Let’s leave it there. This should satisfy Fury, and it helps us narrow down who we’re looking for.”

“Four men in balaclavas?” Tony said, trying to joke. 

“That’s right. You should eat that, you know,” she said, motioning to the food. “You need to get your strength up.”

Tony looked at it distastefully. “I’ve never been big on eating.”

Natasha picked the ham salad sandwich up and opened up the packaging, knowing he would struggle with one arm, then set it back down. “Tough,” she smirked.

“All the money I’m paying out and this is the best they can do?”

“It’s a hospital, not a restaurant. Stop being a diva.”

Tony settled back into the pillows, ready for another hit of pain medication. “I’ll have it later.”

“You better, or I’ll tell Pepper Clint’s being smuggling you cheeseburgers in.”

Tony face showed surprise before he turned it into a stare. “Goodbye,” he called to her back. “Thanks for stopping by.”

The got to the door, turned and gave him the finger. Tony felt himself laugh for the first time in days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you are reading this, please let me know what you think! x


	15. Chapter 15

It was late morning, Tony judged, from the view out of the window. He had woken earlier, he remembered, it had still been dark, so he must have dozed off again without realising. He didn't think he had ever slept so much in his life. He shifted in the bed, pushing himself up against the pillows. His body was still sore, but as the days passed, he realised he was healing. The ache in his head lessened, and his ribs were starting to ease off. His shoulder joint seemed to hurt more, since the strapping had been taken off the night before, releasing his arm, but it was progress, so he wasn't going to complain about it. He was due his first physio session this afternoon. He was looking forward to it, despite Dr Rutenberg’s promise that it would hurt, it would be a good kind of hurt, he told himself. The sooner his shoulder was strong enough; the sooner he could start working on his leg.

He tenderly lifted his arm from the bed, watched as it hovered, shaking slightly, just a few inches off of the bed before it dropped back down. It hurt, a strong ache thrumming throughout it - he couldn't believe how weak he was. One bullet, that's all it took, and his arm was useless, the muscle damaged; he had to start again from scratch. He had been assured he would gain full mobility of his arm and shoulder, but it seemed a long way away.

He let his head drop back against the pillows and scratched at his face, the stubble was already defined, despite Pepper's efforts a couple of days ago. It felt a lot longer. He still craved a shower, knew he wouldn't feel truly clean until he had one, but he knew it wasn't going to happen, not for a while.

He glanced down at his leg. It was twice the size of his right leg, what with the bandages, then the heavy, bulky silver frame. It was a hideous contraption to look at. Tony smiled to himself as he thought about getting it sprayed red and gold. Maybe later, when he was back home. Blood had crept through the bandages in places, spotting it a dark brown. They were supposed to be changed tomorrow, he wasn't looking forward to it. But at least they'd give him painkillers, beforehand. Maybe he'd ask them to knock him out for it this time. It was justified, he thought, and a shiver went through him as he remembered the last dressing change. Why did healing hurt so much?

Slowly, very slowly, he tilted his injured foot to the right. He felt a strip of pain ripple through his leg, from toe to knee and sighed. He could still feel the pain of the initial break, and the ones that followed as the man had kicked and stomped and laughed and jeered as he had screamed and shrieked and cried, desperate for it to stop... He clenched his first, willing the sounds out of his head. He tried to clench his left fist but he had no strength to it. Growing angry, he clenched his jaw and began to grind his teeth as he stared out of the window, willing the images from his mind.

Silently seething, he made a decision. "Screw this," he muttered to himself, sitting up straight, face determined. He grabbed the controller and gave himself a dose of the morphine. His first intake of the day. He'd been trying to limit it, to wait as long as possible between doses, but not now. He grabbed the edge of the mattress with his right hand, and slowly began to gently shuffle his way towards the edge of the bed. His breathing was slow and measured as he shifted his body painfully slowly towards the edge. As he neared his destination he let go of the mattress and instead placed both hands on the edge of the fixator. He pulled it, shifting his leg so it was once more aligned with his body, stretched out in front of him. It hurt, but not as much as it should have, thanks to the medication. "Shit," he gasped to himself as a particularly sharp twang juddered through him. He wiped his hand against his forehead, brushing away the sweat. He was hot.

He gripped the bed beneath him again, then gently lowered his right leg down until he felt the cold floor beneath his bare foot. He grinned to himself, despite how weak he felt, he also felt like he'd accomplished something. His leg started to tremble, and his shoulder was beginning to ache harder, more persistently, not strong enough to help hold his weight up. He knew he needed to lift his bad leg down, get it onto the floor steadily, but avoid putting any weight on it at the same time. 

He closed his eyes for a second and took a long breath preparing himself before he continued. He knew it was going to hurt, but he knew he had to do it - he needed to do it. He eyed the chair by the bed hungrily; it was just a few steps away. He was getting to that chair, and he was going to sit proudly in it.

"In for a penny, in for a pound," he muttered to himself, taking one last long breath.

He used his right arm to grip the bed, to help hold himself upright. His weakened left hand would hold onto the fixator, help to steady his leg as he slowly eased it down to the floor, he decided. He shifted the leg, hissing again as it reached the edge of the mattress. He pulled on the frame, getting ready ease it through the air. His leg left the mattress. Steve walked in a second too late.

"What the hell are you doing?!"

Tony jumped at the noise, let go of his leg as it sailed through the air, then panicked as he felt it drop, plummet towards the floor. He was too weak to stop it, the fixator too heavy. His leg crashed towards the floor like a dead weight. Tony tried to brace himself for the impact but it hit him too quickly. Pain erupted through his foot as it hit the floor, spiralling into his leg as the limb buckled and he collapsed to the floor as an ugly howl thundered through him. He arched his back, eyes squeezed shut, desperate to get away from the pain as he clawed at the floor, struggling to breathe.

Steve was at his side in an instant, first shouting for help at the top of his voice, then whispering "It's okay," and "I'm here," as he approached Tony, crouching over him on the floor. He couldn’t help but mutter an angry “what were you thinking” as he tried to assist him.

“Shh-up up,” Tony gasped, then fell still against the floor, both hands still held protectively against his leg.

“Tony, can you hear me?” Steve called.

Tony didn’t respond, and Steve assumed he had blacked out. His breath seemed to stutter in and out, Steve wondered if he had gone into shock.

"I'm going for help," Steve said, knowing Tony wouldn’t hear him. 

He left the room yelling for help and was surprised to bump into his doctor who had ironically been on his way to check on Tony. Steve hurriedly explained what happened and led the way back inside. Together they managed to get Tony back onto the bed, Steve watched him intently as Dr Ruttenberg checked his pulse and then the metal frame covering his leg. After a few minutes Tony blinked slowly before screwing his face up in pain as he came too. 

“Tony, are you awake?” Steve asked, his voice threaded with worry.

“What happened,” he mumbled as he raised a hand up to his forehead in an attempt to brush off some of the sweat. 

Dr Ruttenberg injected a strong dose of pain relief directly into his weakened arm. Steve watched as the tension began to seep out of his face, his body seemed to relax slightly, although he was still trembling.

"How did this happen, did you fall out of bed?" The doctor asked.

Tony glanced at Steve quickly before flitting back to the doctor. “Don’t remember,” he muttered, wincing again.

"I'll, uh, give you some privacy," Steve said, feeling uncomfortable. “I’m going to take off. I’ll be back later… when you’re feeling better?”

“Sure,” Tony said, eyes closed. He looked exhausted. Steve left the room as Dr Ruttenberg continued to fuss with the frame. He was determined to come back later, to talk about what had happened, and his part in Tony’s abduction. Hopefully the fact that Steve hadn’t sold him out to the doctor about his “fall” would be a point in Steve’s favour, not that he expected redemption.


	16. Chapter 16

Pepper burst into Dr Ruttenberg’s office, looking more unsettled than he had ever seen her. 

“Ah,” he said, putting down the x-ray he had been studying. “Pepper, I was expecting you.”

“Tony, where is he? I went to his room, and he isn’t there, there was blood on the sheets, and the nurse, she said I had to speak to you.” Her voice was frantic. “Is he okay – what happened, did-“

“Pepper stop,” Pete ordered, scurrying around his desk and guiding her to a seat. “Didn’t you get my voicemail? I called you to explain…”

Pepper began digging into her handbag before pulling out her phone. “I didn’t hear it ring – oh, it’s on silent,” she gasped.

“It’s okay, Pepper. Tony’s okay. He had an accident earlier, we’ve had to take –“

“Accident, what accident? How can he have an accident in his hospital bed?”

“Well, he fell out of bed. Hurt himself, not too badly, but the force of the fall knocked some of the screws out of place on the fixator. We had to take him back into surgery, to get it straightened out. He was only down for 45 minutes, and he’s in recovery now.”

Pepper sank back against the chair. “Oh God,” she breathed. “So he’s going to be okay?”

“Yes, he is. He might have put his recovery back a week or two, but that’s all.”

Pepper looked down at her hands, frowning. “And he, he just fell out of bed?”

Dr Ruttenberg nodded. “That’s his story. Coincidentally, the morning after we removed the strapping from his arm, so we could start physio.”

Peppers frown turned to anger. “Oh Tony,” she muttered, rubbing her hand against her leg.

“Oh Tony, indeed. But I expected this, and he didn’t cause too much damage, hopefully this will teach him a lesson.”

“I hope so,” she muttered tiredly. 

“Well, for one, the strappings back on the arm for an extra week. I’ll let him get away with it this time, but if he tries it on again I’ll have him cuffed to the bed.”

Pepper let a small smile out at that, knowing Pete would never carry the threat through.

“I’ll have a word with him, later.”

“Yes, you and the good Captain, looks like Mr Rogers also timed his visit badly, he caught Tony just after his “fall”, he said, stressing the word with a knowing smile.

“Great,” she muttered. “Well, at least we know Tony is still Tony,” she gave a humorous laugh. “How long until he comes around?”

“I’d wait until morning. He’s going to be out for a while, I gave him a strong sedative to combat the pain, so I don’t expect him to be lucid until the morning. But it should ease over the coming days to get him back to where he was when he felt good enough to go gallivanting off. We’re going to have to keep a close eye on him; while I hope he’ll learn from this, I wouldn’t be surprised to see a repeat performance.”

Pepper sighed. 

*

Steve looked Tony up and down carefully, taking in the grey pallor and unkempt, greasy hair. “So,” he said, taking a seat next to the bed. “You look better than you did yesterday.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Thanks,” he drawled. “Can’t say the same for you though. You still have that kicked puppy look about you.”

“Tony,” Steve said, suddenly serious as he took a seat. “I just wanted to see how you are, and to, well, I need to apologise.” Tony held his free hand up to stop him, the other one once again strapped to his chest after yesterday’s adventure. Steve ignored the gesture. “I just…. I’m sorry. This…” he looked down at Tony’s leg. “This is all my fault. And I’m so sorry. If I hadn’t taken the microchip into the tower, none of this would have happened.”

“That’s bullshit,” Tony said, trying not to grimace as he pushed himself up slightly against the pillow. “Doesn’t matter where you took the chip, they would have probably come after me anyway.”

Steve smiled slightly as he shook his head, swallowing heavily. “No. I took it into the tower, your tower. They assumed you would know where it was, how to get it.”

“Look,” Tony said, feeling suddenly agitated and bored of the conversation. He was still tired from his unexpected doping session the day before. “I get it, you feel guilty, yadda yadda yadda. I do get it, but it’s not your fault. Trust me, I’m always right.” Seeing the frown still littering Roger’s face, Tony continued. “Seriously. You’re an Avenger. I’m an Avenger. They probably thought the whole team knew where it was and what was going on. How were they to know that Fury had hand-picked his golden goose for the job?” This time it was Steve who rolled his eyes. Tony continued on. “It makes sense that they would come for me.”

Tony stared at him expectantly, but Steve looked confused. “Because you’re rich?” He asked.

Tony shrugged with one shoulder. “No. I mean, sure that has brought me a lot of unrelated problems and hostility over the years.” He winced again, and thought about pushing the button on the pain relief controller, but he held off. Not in front of Steve, he told himself. “Look,” he said again, trying not to babble. “I’m the easy target here. I’m the human. Who are you going to pick a fight with? A super soldier? A hulk? A super spy? A real life God?” He didn’t mean for the bitterness to creep into his voice, but he couldn’t keep it out. “I’m the weak link, the easy target. They thought I’d be the easiest to break, and they were probably right. So don’t bother with your pity party, Cap, cos this isn’t your fault.”

He finished his speech, feeling angry and frustrated, but determined not to let it show, although Steve had been watching the way his one free hand had formed into a fist, and the way his chest was breathing in and out faster. 

“But Tony, you’re Iron Man. You wouldn’t break.”

“Yes,” Tony said, laughing suddenly, mockingly. “I’m Iron Man. Big man in a suit of armour, take that away…” He trailed off, feeling immediately bad as pang of guilt flashed over Steve’s face. “Shit Steve,” he continued tiredly. “I’m sorry. I’m not having a go at you, I’m trying to make you feel better. Not exactly my forte. I just don‘t want you to feel bad about what happened, I really don’t.”

Steve nodded. “I’m sorry about what I said before, you know I am. It was before I got to know you. You know that. But you’re just as capably as any other member of this team, if not more so, in and out of the suit.”

Tony sighed. “Sure,” he said, but it fell flat. “But that’s not how the outside world see it. I’m just a man in a can. Honestly Cap, I don’t care. No hard feelings.”

Steve nodded. He didn’t want to let it go so easily, but he could see how drained Tony looked, and didn’t want to push it any further. “Thank you, Tony, I appreciate it. Now, about yesterday-“

“You just don’t give up, do you?” Tony responded, exasperated.

“I covered for you with the Doctor, but what were you thinking, honestly? Getting out of bed, with one functioning arm and leg? You’ve been conscious for a few days. Trying to run before you can walk.”

Tony snorted, unable to hide his irritation. “Actually, I can’t do either.” 

Steve blanched, not meaning for his comment to be taken that way. “Just… take it easy. You’re going to hurt yourself.”

“I have to push myself if I want to recover.”

“Yes, but when you’re ready.”

“Look,” Tony snapped, his temper growing shorter, “it’s not like I have any super healing abilities.” Again guilt washed over him as he saw the hurt flash over Steve’s face.” Tony ran a hand over his face tiredly. “I’m sorry, I’m not trying to be a d*ck. But I do need to push myself. I know I took it a step too far yesterday, literally, I just had to test myself.” He hoped Steve would see his attempt at humour as the olive branch it was. 

“I know. But please, just take it easy. We need you back with us, but only when you’re fit and well. And at least try and follow your doctor’s orders?”

“I will,” Tony said, with a fake smile. They both knew he didn’t quite mean it.

Steve glanced at his watch. “Look, I’ve got to go. I need to meet with Fury in an hour.”

“Yeah, I heard you got benched. Funny, all the times I was threatened to be benched, but America’s golden boy is actually suspended! It’s beyond belief!”

Steve sighed, failing to see the funny side. “I disobeyed orders, I deserve to be punished.”

“Relax Cap, it was a joke. I know why you did what you did and I’d probably still be in there if you hadn’t.”

Now it was Steve’s turn to smirk. “Is this your way of thanking me?”

Tony smiled. “Don’t push your luck, old man.”

“Right,” Steve got up to leave. “See you later. And please, try not to do anything too stupid when you’re alone.”

Tony was exhausted; he didn’t plan to do anything but sleep, even though that seemed to be all he was good for recently. Still, he replied “I can’t make any promises” to Steve’s retreating back, he had a reputation to uphold.


	17. Chapter 17

"Good morning," Pepper said cheerfully as she breezed into the room. She stooped over the bed and gave Tony a gentle kiss on the cheek as he roused himself from sleep. He raised a hand up to his face, wiped at his eyes and smiled tiredly. "Morning."

"I thought you would be up already," she said, settling down in the chair next to the bed.

"Yeah," he grumbled, before glancing at his watch. "I guess my body is enjoying all of this rest." He gingerly pushed himself up in the bed, mindful of jostling his leg. 

She began to rummage through a duffel bag he hadn't noticed her carrying. "I bought you some new clothes - t-shirts, shorts and sweat pants."

Tony frowned. "Thanks," he said, voice lowering in tone.

"What? You want to wear an Armani three piece suit for your first physiotherapy session?"

Tony smirked. "It would probably make me feel better, you know, look good on the outside, feel better on the inside?"

Pepper began folding the items. "I'm not sure how practical that would be."

"Says the woman who wears 4 inch heels for 14 hour work days."

Pepper smirked, shaking her head at him. "I'm joking," he said, "Thanks, can’t wait to get started.”

“Just remember to follow the physiotherapist’s instructions to the letter Tony,” she warned. “We don’t want another set-back.”

“Sure,” he said, sarcastic. “We don’t, and I certainly don’t, what with it being my arm and all.”

“Right now,” Pepper said, her voice a notch higher. “I really want to challenge you to an arm wrestle.”

“Ha ha,” he replied dryly, leaning over to pick up his tablet.

“And I hope you’re not spending too much time on that,” she nodded to the device in his hands. “You really do need to rest.”

“Rest is for smuckhs,” he said, before changing his tone at the warning look on her face. “I’m just working on some designs, that’s all. It’s handy, when I can’t sleep. Not like I can wander down to the workshop.”

“I didn’t know you were having trouble sleeping, sleeping beauty,” she leant over to give him another kiss on the cheek before snatching the tablet from his good hand. 

“Hey!” Tony yelped.

“And as I only get an hour with you today, I want your attention on me, not some new designs.” She sat down next to him now, smirking as she held the tablet out of his reach.

“You know,” he grinned, “I kind of like you like this… feisty?”

A nurse entered the room with breakfast for two, a habit they had settled into for the last week, and she left the room to the sound of their gentle banter and laughter behind her, and a warm smile on her own face.

*

The next two weeks passed quickly, since the physiotherapy sessions had started. Ruttenberg was keeping a close eye on him, trying to make sure his patient didn’t overdo it, and was pleased to see he appeared to be taking this seriously and following instructions. Tony had settled into a new routine of sleep, pain medication and then either physiotherapy sessions for the slowly healing shoulder wound, or visits from his team mates. While the monotony was frustrating, Tony was pleased to see the results of his work. Whilst his shoulder still hurt and was greatly weakened, after two weeks of what at first seemed like ridiculous (if painful) exercises, he was beginning to see results. 

His leg was another matter. He was still working on accepting that this was going to take a lot longer - months, possible years even. He had grown used to waking and feeling the heavy, tender contraption secured to his skin, holding his bones together as they healed. It still hurt, when the dressings were changed, but this was now a less frequent task, thankfully. A shower was still out of the question, unfortunately, but as his damaged shoulder began to heal he was already able to better take care of himself, and knowing he didn't need to rely on other for something as simple as washing or shaving himself, well, that made him feel good. Getting in and out of bed was still difficult, and a slow, painful act, and he quietly accepted the wheelchair required for any movement, without a fight. For now, he ignored this, instead focusing on getting his arm and shoulder functionality back. When he was strong enough, he would be able to try to walk with crutches instead of the wheelchair, and that the goal he was currently focused on.

He was unsurprised when Natasha ambled into his room one morning, wheelchair in tow and a grin on her face. He had physiotherapy sessions every other day, one day on to work, the next day off to recover. His team mates visited him in the alternate days, he was too tired for visitors after a session, and Pepper came to see him every morning where they had breakfast together. They had vowed to continue this tradition even after he was fit and well again, and the thought warmed him, he was actually looking forward to this, what once happened on a rare occasion due to workloads and scheduling, now they were going to make the time for it regardless of other priorities, and he couldn’t wait.

"What do you look so pleased about?" He asked curiously.

Natasha raised an eyebrow. "Want to break out of this place for a while?"

Now Tony raised an eyebrow. "Huh?"

"I thought you could do with a break, and I have the day off. Thought it might be nice to swing by the tower for a few hours? I’ve got a car out waiting in the lot, if you're up for it?"

Tony couldn't deny how good the prospect of visiting the tower was. Even if it was just for a couple of hours, it was better than nothing, and he hadn't been home in weeks.

"Sure," he said, trying to sound casual, "sign me up."

Natasha grinned.

*

As the elevator took them up to the Avenger’s floor, Tony tried not to look at his reflection in the mirror. His hair was too long, he had two days’ worth of stubble and he was wearing grey sweat pants and a matching hoodie. He looked, in all honestly, like crap. He was too thin and despite the fact that he was well rested, he looked washed out and tired. He had wanted to do his return on two feet, albeit with crutches, but he knew not to argue when Natasha had rolled out the wheelchair, he knew he wasn’t up for walking just yet, despite his leaps and gains made with the work on his arm. 

He had negotiated with Natasha that he push himself, but it was hard work, his arm not quite as strong as he had imagined, and he had given in and nodded his head when she had looked questioningly at him as they reached the lift. How she had known he was ready for a break he did not know, he was just grateful he didn’t have to ask. His leg was held out straight in front of him, covered in an Iron Man blanket Natasha had brought along which made him smile. He was worried about bashing it on a wall or into the door, as so often happens on slap stick TV shows, but thankfully Natasha navigated the chair with care. 

“Will anyone be in?” Tony asked. If Natasha had busted him out it made sense that the tower would be empty. And Pepper had a business planning meeting, she had to hurry off for it earlier that morning. Still, it would be nice just to get back into his home for a while.

Natasha just smirked at him as the lift reached their floor. The elevator pinged and then the doors opened. Jarvis was the first to speak. “Welcome home Sir.”

“Thanks J-Jesus!” Tony nearly shot out of his chair as he was pushed into the room. A huge “welcome home” banner hung from the ceiling, and many more were pasted on the walls in the huge open living space. The Avengers were all there wearing party hats and simultaneously pulling on party poppers, the initial bangs making him jump as he took in the scene with surprise. Tony scanned the room, his mouth open in shock.

“I do believe that’s the first time I’ve seen you speechless.” 

“Rhodes!” Tony was shocked.

“Hey Tony!”

Tony was even more surprised. “Harley,” he smiled.

“Here you go Boss,” Happy handed him a glass of juice.

“Thanks Happy,” Tony said, still in a state of shock and surprise.

He tilted his head up to face Natasha, mouth half open. “Was this you?”

Natasha shook her head, smiling, surprised herself at how well they had managed to shock him. She nodded with her head and Tony faced forwards again, a new smile on his face, different, more content. 

“Pepper,” he said, awe struck as she moved over to greet him. She leaned forwards, gave him a lingering kiss on his cheek and smiled.

“Welcome home Tony,” she whispered softly in his ear.

“Thank you,” he muttered, grasping her hand in his and squeezing it. “Home, as in?”

“As in home. I’ve hired medical carers who will make daily visits, and SI now also house a team of the world’s top physiotherapists. Dr Ruttenberg has also agreed to make house calls when required to check on your progress on your leg. You will have to go back in for the surgeries on your leg in the future, but the time spent there should be minimal.”

“In short,” Steve laughed. “You’re stuck with us.”

“Thanks guys, this is great.”

Natasha wheeled him further in where he could see tables piled high with food and cake and what looked to be a drinks table. He tried to get closer but Natasha put the brakes on. “This is an alcohol free party,” she said sternly. 

Tony smiled lightly. “I’d expect nothing less.”

*

House later, the party had fizzled out. Clint had fallen asleep and was dozing in the corner. Natasha was concentrating hard on a tablet, seated alone in the kitchen, her posture demanding privacy. Happy was with Harley on a games console, winning; but using cheating tactics, if anyone would believe Harley.

Tony had wheeled his chair up to a gap in the room and the others had positioned there chairs around him so they formed a general circle. Pepper sat to his left, a hand on his knee. Bruce was to his right, the two had been talking about the possibilities of using science to speed up healing time. Pepper had warned them both that under no circumstances were the experiments to be conducted on Tony. Rhodey and Steve formed the last of the circle, they had been talking military earlier, but now they were both focused on Tony.

“You look tired Tony,” Pepper fussed, “I don’t think tonight should be a late one.”

Tony nodded tiredly, surprising everyone when he simply responded “Agreed. Rhodey, how long are you home for?”

“Two more nights before I have to leave. Plenty of time for us to catch up.”

Steve didn’t miss the way Tony’s face lit up at that, it made him think of the friendship he had had with Bucky, and he smiled to himself gently.

“What are we doing tomorrow?”

Pepper cleared her throat. “I know you aren’t going to like this, but I’ve drawn up a schedule. I worked it out with the doctors, to ensure you aren’t over taxing yourself, and to make sure you get the same physiotherapy done as you would have at hospital.”

“Does it have any workshop time scheduled in?”

Pepper smirked. She had known this would come up. “It does. Brief time slots. But you have a chaperone who will ensure that 1. You stick to those time slots 2. You don’t do anything that could hamper your recovery in those time slots. Bruce has agreed to take over the role of chaperone.”

Tony glared at Bruce, “traitor.” Bruce laughed and held his hands out in a defensive position. “It was the best I could do.”

“What about you, didn’t you have a big business meeting today?”

Pepper blushed lightly. “I actually made that up. A cover, if you will. Natasha coached me.”

“I bet she did.” He was cut off by a loud shriek of laugher from Harley across the room.

“How long is the kid here for?”

“His mum agreed to another week, but she wanted him back ready for when school starts again.”

“Fair enough, I owe him some suit time.”

“I know you do, he hasn’t stopped going on about it.”

Tony smiled. “He’s a good kid,” he said. Rhodey and Bruce left for more coffee, Steve looked around the room awkwardly for an escape.

“What about you Cap?”

“What about me?”

“You got any cover in place while I’m out?”

“The Falcon’s stepped in. He’s no Iron Man, but he’s a good man, and it gives us some air support.”

Tony nodded, pleased the team had support, but more relieved that he hadn’t been replaced. 

“We need you back Tony, but not until you’re better, as strong as you were. It may take a while, but we can wait.”

“Thanks. Any news on finding the guys that did this?”

Steve shook his head. “No. They were smart. I’ve got a few more leads to chase. I’m not saying we’re close, but I’m confident we’ll get them.”

Tony nodded. “Good enough for me.”

“I thought you’d be more impatient than that.”

Tony tapped against the blanket covering the fixator holding his leg together. “The longer it takes, the better I’ll be. I want to be in on the take down. So take your time, there’s no rush.”

“Tony…” Steve warned.

“I’m not saying I’m going to kill the guys, I just… wouldn’t mind popping off a few extra repulsor blasts.”

Steve just smirked, saying nothing, knowing anything he did say in agreement or disagreement, would only serve to encourage him.

*

Later, when the guests had left or retired to their rooms, Pepper and Tony made their way to bed. It was difficult, getting out of the chair and into the bed, and it hurt, but it felt so good when he was laid beneath his own covers, Pepper at his side. 

“Was this okay?” Pepper asked. She knew Tony didn’t like to be out of control and she was worried the surprise party and early release could irritate him, but she was sure he had enjoyed himself.

“This was great. Thank you,” he whispered, pulling her closer. He winced slightly as he did so, and she pulled away gently. He quickly pulled her back, holding her tighter. 

“You okay?” she whispered.

He shook his head, he wasn’t okay. He felt physically weak and his leg was throbbing. He had months and months of pain, surgery and rehabilitation ahead of him. But he thought about his team, waiting here for him, wanting to welcome him home. Steve had promised him they would go jogging together when his leg had healed. Natasha had made him agree to trying at least one self-defence lesson when he was well enough to help rebuild his muscle mass. Bruce and he were already dreaming up their next science project. He thought of Happy and Rhodey, two of his oldest friends, being there for him yet again. He looked over at Pepper, he couldn’t see her face in the darkness but he smiled at her anyway.

“Yea,” he whispered back, “I’m fine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well thanks for reading everyone!
> 
> Please feel free to send me any comments you have - good and bad!
> 
> I had SO many more places to take this story, but I just didn't have the time to write it. But I hope the ending wasn't too rushed!
> 
> Thanks again :D


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